


Make This Chaos Count

by DionysusCrisis



Series: Every Star Another Sun [2]
Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Blood and Injury, Heist, Mystery, OK maybe I'm here to wreck you but I'll also patch you back up, Tags May Change, ZADF, but that's not the focus, can be interpreted as zadr, iz characters can have little a emotional intelligence as a treat, may in fact be zadr but in a very queerplatonic sense, mid-20s Dib, rated for some violence and Dib's pottymouth, so nothing overtly sexual, some dark concepts but I'm not here to wreck you, the boys are more emotionally literate now, with a focus on friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 55,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22795894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DionysusCrisis/pseuds/DionysusCrisis
Summary: “You know, you’ve arrived at the perfect time. We have a fight scheduled shortly, but one of our challengers has tragically succumbed to her injuries. We need a replacement, and Zoom appears to be a suitable candidate.”“Are these fights to the death?” Dib asked, forcing the waver out of his voice.Smikka laughed. “Not to worry, Captain. That wouldn’t be sustainable entertainment. Besides, Irkens are notoriously difficult to kill… Though if any creature knows how to destroy an Irken, it’s another Irken.”[Intergalactic adventurers Dib and Zim find themselves in over their heads after stumbling upon a gladiatorial space station that pits ex-invaders against each other for the entertainment of formerly conquered societies. Featuring: undercover shenanigans, existential debates, and what it means to trust in your friends.]
Series: Every Star Another Sun [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636579
Comments: 162
Kudos: 266





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just a curious speck that got caught up in orbit...  
> Like a magnet, it beckoned my metals toward it.  
> \- Jupiter, Sleeping At Last
> 
> [I recommend reading the first part of this series (it's short!) for some additional context... But if you're just here for space-gladiators and are ready to jump right in, more power to you.]
> 
> [This fic updates weekly, to the best of my ability.]

Dib couldn’t wait to prove Zim wrong. It was one of his favorite pastimes, after all. In fact, just yesterday, Dib had managed to hack a supposedly impenetrable data stream transmitted through the edge of what was once Irken-dominated space. Zim accused him of cheating and then backpedaled about how “un-hackable” the data really was, but Dib’s ability to read Zim’s body language had improved greatly during their time traveling the stars together, and he could tell the alien was at least a little impressed.

Not as impressed as he’d be once they’d managed to free all the prisoners of this giant gladiatorial stadium, of course.

Dib leaned back in the pilot’s seat with a self-assured grin as the Voot’s airlock hissed open behind him. “Welcome back, space-bug,” he greeted, not bothering to watch Zim enter the cabin.

“Did you get what you needed? Can we get out of here?” Zim grumbled as he noisily removed his magnetic boots.

“It’s a lot of data. Still downloading,” Dib said, monitoring the numbers as they streamed across the cockpit’s main display. “Thanks for setting up the link out there. You shouldn’t have to go back out to disconnect it.”

“I still think this is a terrible idea. In case you wondered,” Zim said.

Dib rolled his eyes. He didn’t need to wonder about Zim’s opinion on the situation, considering Zim had complained about it continuously since Dib had proposed his plan.

“And yet here we are,” Dib said, and kicked his feet up on the edge of the control panel in a show of nonchalance.

Suddenly, Dib’s seat tilted back, dislodging his feet and nearly dumping him to the floor as he tried to catch himself. Zim snickered and appeared at his side, one PAK leg slowly returning into position. His moment of mirth at Dib’s expense was brief. Zim frowned and leaned closer to the screen.

“How long will this take? We can’t stay here much longer without drawing their attention.”

Dib crossed his arms. “Relax. The Voot is a gnat compared to this station. Plus we’re cloaked. We’re essentially invisible.”

“How much longer?” Zim repeated.

Dib decided not to push his luck. Patience had carried him a long way in his journey to friendship with Zim, especially in the past few weeks. Reining in his temper wasn’t always easy, but Dib found that when he gave Zim a little space, the alien repaid him in honesty. Or at least something close to it.

“I’m not sure… It’s a lot more info than I expected,” Dib said. He pushed his glasses back to the bridge of his nose as he tried to make sense of the data flow. “Huh… I thought I was pulling schematics, but this is… Well, I’m not sure _what_ this is.”

Zim tapped his foot anxiously but didn’t comment.

Perhaps he was trying his hand at patience, too.

Dib typed a few commands into the panel, hoping to parse the information. “I want to let it run for a few more minutes. If I don’t have anything clear by then, we can go.”

Zim’s antennae perked. “You’re giving up on this ridiculous prison-break scheme?”

 _Patience…_ “I’m not giving up. If we can’t get the schematics, I’m sure we can come up with a different solution. We’re still in the planning stages.”

Zim began to pace, muttering chirpy, Irken obscenities under his breath, eyes locked on the screen.

“Zim, you agreed to do this with me,” Dib reminded him, still trying to be gentle with his approach.

“Yes, in a moment of weakness and obligation,” Zim said.

Dib’s heart fell a little. “You’re not obligated to do anything.”

“No no, this is what ‘partnership’ is,” Zim said, raising a finger in mock sincerity. “It’s all about trust. And _I_ trust that the second we free those prisoners, they’ll murder us. Or, more specifically, they’ll murder _you._ But it’s OK, because I trust in my ability to resurrect your little broken worm body after they tear you to pieces.”

Dib couldn’t take much more of this. “They’re not going to kill us. That makes absolutely no sense.”

“They’re Irkens,” Zim sneered. “They’ll do whatever they have to do to survive, which may include cutting you in half if you try to stop them from returning to the Empire. Which you’ll probably do, because you have the self-preservation instinct of a Two-Tongued Spinkax.”

Dib blinked at him.

“Spinkaxes are born addicted to a type of plant which kills them immediately upon ingestion. It’s a trait that evolved within them to control their own population. They mature and breed very quickly, but also crave that plant so intensely that they only tend to live for hours, sometimes minutes, before succumbing to the urge to eat it,” Zim explained, remarkably calm.

“Oh. That’s grim.”

“Tell me about it,” Zim said, but then snapped back into rant-mode. “Anyway, even those worthless creatures would know better than to willingly interact with a platoon of Irkens. You of all people should recognize that, Dib-beast.”

“And _you_ of all people should recognize that Irkens are capable of change,” Dib volleyed.

Zim fixed Dib with a glare so fierce that Dib swore he felt scalded. “You still don’t understand. Foolish dirt-monkey… I don’t know why I bother. I should just stand to the side and let you be eviscerated.”

Dib started up out of the pilot’s seat, giving into his anger. “What the hell is your problem, Zim? You can’t seriously-”

The port to Dib’s sleeping chamber whirred open and GIR burst into the cabin, arms raised in triumph. “I did it! I solved the puzzle! What’d I win?”

Zim’s demeanor instantly shifted to something oddly parental as he turned to face his minion. “GIR! Great work unlocking that door that took me several hours to secure! You won… eh… another round of playing with the door puzzle! Doesn’t that sound fun?”

“It sure doesn’t!” GIR said, still beaming.

“It doesn’t? Oh, well, that’s too bad, because in you go again,” Zim said. In a flash, Zim crossed the cabin, scooped GIR into the chamber, and resealed the door. He typed frantically into a panel outside of it, presumably locking the room down, before pausing, scratching his chin thoughtfully, and pulling a laser arm out of his PAK.

“Don’t,” Dib said flatly.

Zim flinched and zipped the laser back into his PAK. “Don’t what? Zim wouldn’t seal the door to your chamber with a laser to keep GIR inside. That would be shortsighted and foolish. You saw nothing. Anyway. Shall we resume our discussion about how stupid and ignorant you are?”

Dib sighed loudly and flopped back into the pilot’s seat. If he’d known this whole affair would be such a hassle, maybe he wouldn’t have hacked that data stream in the first place. But he _did_ hack the stream, and he couldn’t ignore the call for captured Irken ex-invaders that had been sent out by something called “Smikka Smikka Smoodoo’s Screw You Battle Zoo.”

After the disappearance of the Massive years ago, an organization of rebels called the Resisty had apparently taken advantage of the loss of leadership within the Irken Empire. That moment of vulnerability had been enough to turn the tide of the resistance. The Empire collapsed in on itself, abandoning its furthest colonies, leaving Irken invaders stranded and without the resources to defend themselves as their conquered planets gained inspiration from the Resisty and turned on them.

This “Smikka” character had found a way to capitalize on the situation. His encoded transmission – meant for the world leaders of local planets, not random interlopers like Dib and Zim – described a giant stadium of a space station designed to pit captive Irkens against each other for the entertainment of the aliens they’d once tried to dominate.

Dib could see the appeal of such a place. Back when he and Zim had battled over the fate of Earth, shipping Zim off to a revenge-fueled gladiatorial space prison would have sounded fantastic. But lots of things had changed since then. Zim included.

“Just a couple more minutes and then I’ll shut the stream down,” Dib said, ignoring Zim’s invitation to continue their spat.

“I don’t know if we can keep GIR contained that long,” Zim said.

Dib nodded. GIR, for all of his eccentricities, did have his strengths. Stealth was not one of them. Which reminded Dib…

“Hey, while this wraps up, can we test my communicators?” he asked.

“I still don’t understand why our usual communicators aren’t sufficient,” Zim said. At least it wasn’t an outright “no.”

Dib swiveled his chair and popped open a small hatch to retrieve his invention. “If these work, they’ll be much more covert than your PAK phone or my TransDibber. It’ll be easier to keep in touch when we split up on missions. Here, let me see your antenna.”

Zim paused, a faint snarl tugging up the corner of his lip, but then obligingly approached. “Make it fast.”

Dib pulled a small box from the hatch, opened it, and peeled a thin, translucent bit of film from a slide inside of it. He’d used Zim’s circuitry printer to design it, and this was the first iteration of the invention that looked viable. The other versions had been so delicate that they’d torn before Dib could even toy with them. Dib chewed his lip as he hovered the strip over the base of Zim’s left antenna.

“Hold still,” he instructed.

Zim, to his credit, said nothing as Dib cupped the underside of his antenna for stability. The insectoid appendage twitched a little – a reflex, not Zim’s fault – but then stilled as Dib’s fingers curled around it. Dib rarely had the opportunity to touch Zim’s antennae and was briefly sidetracked by the stiff, fibrous texture of the organ. He shook himself away from the distraction as he carefully adhered the communicator film to its base.

Dib released the antenna and Zim shivered. His left antenna spasmed a little, flicking as if trying to dislodge an irritant, but then settled back into a neutral position.

“Does it feel OK?” Dib asked as he peeled his own piece of film.

“It feels… strange,” Zim said, tilting his head and squinting one eye. “But Zim supposes it isn’t terrible.”

Dib lined his own strip just in front of his left ear, trailing it down to the edge of his jaw. “Good. So, to turn them on, press at the bottom of the strip and slide your finger up it. Do the opposite to turn it off. Like this.”

Dib rubbed his communicator up from his jaw to his ear. Zim hesitantly did the same, drawing his claw from the base of his antenna up an inch or so to the top of his film. Dib was delighted to observe that the device was almost completely invisible on Zim’s antenna.

“Can you hear me?” Dib said quietly.

Zim’s antennae shot forward and he grimaced slightly. “Loud,” he said in a harsh whisper.

Dib heard Zim’s voice both in the cabin and directly in his ear, followed by a piercing wave of feedback. He rushed to turn the device off. Zim followed suit.

“Great, they work,” Zim growled as he massaged the base of his antenna. “Happy?”

“I still want to test them over a greater distance, but yeah, I’m pretty happy,” Dib said with a satisfied smile.

“Does that mean I have to keep it on?”

Dib shoved the box back into its hatch and began to disconnect the Voot from the stadium’s feed. “Yes. Just until we can get out of here and find a planet to experiment with them on. They’re fragile, so I’d rather not remove them until we have to.”

Zim grunted. The tension melted from the alien’s shoulders as Dib finished closing the data connection and began to reverse the ship. Maybe that meant it was safe to talk about the plan again.

“So… about the prisoners turning on us as soon as we free them…”

Zim groaned and turned his back on Dib, crossing his arms tightly as if that could ward off the conversation. Dib maneuvered the Voot away from the station, avoiding portholes, despite feeling secure in the knowledge that their ship was well-cloaked.

“They don’t even have an Empire to go back to. Why are you so convinced that that’s going to be a problem?” Dib continued.

“Because it doesn’t matter that the Irken Empire is dying. An Irken’s sole purpose is to serve the Empire, even if that means returning to Irk to be slaughtered by the Resisty. They have no choice in the matter.”

“Of course they have a choice. You had a choice,” Dib said.

Dib kept his eyes on the windshield as he navigated, but he sensed Zim stepping further away from the pilot’s seat.

“Like I already said, you don’t understand what you’re talking about,” Zim said. “Those Irkens aren’t going to be like me.”

“So what then? You’re not even going to give them a chance? You’d rather leave them to die in captivity?”

Something thumped against the wall behind Dib, and he wondered if Zim had punched it.

“Don’t you think they might deserve that?” Zim asked, his voice tight. “Why are you so determined to defend them? I’m sure you haven’t forgotten how many times I tried to crush your pathetic stink-planet. Do you even know how many worlds Irk has conquered?”

“OK, sure, but look where we are now!” Dib said, daring a glance backward at Zim, who seethed in the corner of the cabin, arms firmly crossed. “We’re traveling the universe together, solving mysteries, doing good! If you were able to change from my nemesis to my closest friend, then can’t the rest of your kind be reformed, too?”

Zim’s claws clenched near his head, like he was trying not to use them against the wall again, or maybe against himself. Dib wasn’t oblivious to the way Zim tended to yank on his own antennae in moments of duress. The human struggled to look away, torn between watching his screens and not wanting to give Zim the chance to hurt himself.

“No! No, they can’t, Dib!” Zim shouted. “The only reason I’m your friend is because I’m _defective!_ ”

Dib’s stomach flipped. “What?”

Zim scowled. “Don’t look so surprised. This isn’t new information.”

Dib quickly checked the ship’s trajectory before craning his neck to see Zim. “Uh, yeah, it kind of _is_ new information. I mean, you told me about the corruption in your PAK and what your leaders were going to do to you, but I don’t understand how any of that has to do with us being friends?”

“A normal Irken should be incapable of forming such relationships, especially with species that we’ve been sent to subjugate. Under normal circumstances, we could not be friends, but Zim’s PAK is…” Zim’s hands jerked toward his antennae, but he managed to stop himself from grabbing them.

Dib grasped for something positive. “Alright, so your PAK is supposed to suppress feelings of friendship, is that it? So naturally, all Irkens should be able to form those relationships. It’s just a matter of the PAK interfering with your emotions.”

Zim growled and squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. “There is no ‘interfering.’ Irkens ARE their PAKs! There is no difference!”

“Of course there’s a difference!” Dib was nearly out of his seat again, only sparing cursory glances out the windshield between his sentences. “You have an organic brain, don’t you? That’s your real brain, right? The real you?”

“There is no ‘real,’ pig-smelly! They’re the same!” Zim slammed a claw against the hull of the ship with a resounding clang. “Why are we even discussing this? Why are you so fixated on what is and isn’t Zim?”

Dib released his hold on the yoke, spreading his arms wide to gesture to the entire ship. “Because I have to know that this is real!”

A flash of confusion crossed Zim’s face, replaced immediately by… shock? “DIB!”

Dib dove for the yoke a millisecond too late. The bright golden aura of a tractor beam caught the Voot, flinging its passengers off their feet thanks to the ship’s False-Physics Drive. As Dib pulled himself up by the arm of the pilot’s seat, a feminine, computerized voice boomed through the cabin.

“Irken craft: identify yourself.”

Dib looked to Zim, who leaned against the far wall, wincing and rubbing his head. Zim’s wide, red eyes met his, but neither human nor Irken could come up with any words.

“Irken craft: you will be disintegrated if you fail to respond in ten, nine, eight-”

Dib scrambled to the comms button of the control panel. “Shit, shit, shit…”

“…Seven, six, five…”

“What do we say?” Dib’s voice was too high. Blood pounded in his ears.

“Something! Anything!”

“…Four, three, two…”

Dib’s hand slammed down on the comms control. “This is Captain Dib Membrane requesting that you release my vessel at once!”

A few beats passed in silence. Dib straightened his spine, trying to look the part of the intrepid space explorer he was hoping to portray, though he wasn’t sure whether their captors could see inside the ship.

“Captain Dib Membrane,” the electronic voice repeated, stiffly. “State your species, planet of origin, and the purpose of your visit to Smikka Smikka Smoodoo’s Screw You Battle Zoo.”

“Uh…” Dib checked over his shoulder for Zim, who enthusiastically waved him on, sweat beading on his green skin. “I’m a human, uh, Ma’am. From Earth.”

Another pause.

“Unrecognized species. Unrecognized planet of origin. What is the purpose of your visit to Ssssibz?”

It took Dib a moment to comprehend that the word the computer just used was SSSSYBZ, the station’s acronym. “Oh! SSSSYBZ, right. Uh, just curious. But I’ll be on my way now, so if you could deactivate your tractor beam-”

“Captain Dib Membrane, [unknown] of planet [unknown], visiting for [just curious], please state the number of passengers on your vessel.”

“One!” Zim whisper-shouted from the back of ship.

Dib hushed him and returned to the comm. “One passenger. Only me.”

Yet another pause, even longer and more anxiety-producing than before. “The nature of your vessel and the unrecognized species and planet origin of your captain compel us to conduct a lifeform survey. Please standby.”

A deep thrum pulsed through the ship. Dib felt it in his ribs, like the thundering sound of the Hi Skool marching band back on Earth. He held his breath and blinked the stinging sweat from his eyes.

“Two organic lifeforms and one ambulatory artificial intelligence detected. One lifeform has been identified as Irken. Prepare for docking at the station.”

Dib’s heart leapt to his throat. “Wait! That won’t be necessary. I’ve decided not to contribute my, um, Irken captive to the Battle Zoo. Please release my ship.”

“Unable to comply. Please choose from the following options: A) Surrender your Irken captive or B) Prepare for immediate disintegration.”

Dib furrowed his brow. “Now hold on, that’s not fair.”

“Please make your selection or prepare to be disintegrated in ten, nine…”

Zim raced to the front of the ship and shoved Dib aside. “We surrender!”

“Zim!” Dib yanked the alien’s hand off the comm panel. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Please clarify selection,” the computer requested. “Are you surrendering your Irken captive?”

Dib grabbed Zim roughly by the shoulders. “I’m not handing you over to those psychopaths!”

“And _I’m_ not letting us all be blasted into space-dust!” Zim said, shoving away Dib’s hands.

“Please clarify selection.”

Dib felt faint. This couldn’t be happening. Everything had been going so smoothly. How had the beam even found the cloaked Voot? Was there an error on the ship? Was it just bad luck?

“Disintegration in ten, nine, eight…”

“I trust you.”

Dib almost couldn’t hear Zim’s words. “What?”

“…Seven, six…”

Zim frowned. “Partners? Trust? Remember? You’re going to get me out. It’s going to be fine.”

“…Five, four…”

Dib’s hand felt numb as he placed it on the comms button once more. “Surrender. I’m surrendering the captive.”

The expanded Voot Cruiser lurched as the beam started to draw them back toward the station. Dib stared blankly through the windshield at the vast, gray, triangular station with the glass bubble in its center. The battlefield, no doubt. Dib held the edge of the control panel as another wave of dizziness hit.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Zim said matter-of-factly. “If they ask, you’re going to tell them that you’re an ambassador of your species and that you commandeered my ship on Earth. Just another fringe colony, a last ditch effort by the Irken Empire to expand their reach.”

Dib nodded quickly, trying to collect himself. “Right. And then I can explain that I don’t really want to surrender you to the zoo. I’m shopping around for options. Yeah, that should work…”

“That’s not going to work.”

The beam moved so quickly. Ahead of them, a large docking bay opened its doors to accept their ship.

“I have to try! They’re going to _kill_ you, Zim!”

“Pfffft, I’d like to see them try,” Zim said with a casual flick of his wrist. “You underestimate Zim’s combat abilities. I’m not concerned about this so-called battle park. The Dib must focus on the data we collected so you can break me out. We have your communicators. It will be fine.”

As the ship settled into the bay, Dib studied Zim out of the corner of his eye. The Irken stood ramrod straight, hands clasped neatly behind his back, chin high, expression resolute. But the sheen of sweat on his forehead and the slight tremble of his antennae gave him away.

Dib had to say something. Anything. The airlock activated automatically. A team of unfamiliar aliens trotted across the bay toward the parked Voot.

“Take care of GIR,” Zim said, and the Voot’s rear access door opened.

A short, green-skinned alien with a bulbous head stepped aboard, flanked by two taller, orange creatures holding mean-looking energy weapons in their tentacles. At first, Dib thought the green alien was wearing a metal cap, but then he dipped his head in greeting, revealing the hat to be a screw-like appendage drilled directly into the top of the skull.

“Greetings, Captain!” the alien with the screw said to Dib with a warm smile. “I hear you stumped our AI. Not every day we come across a brand new species from uncharted space! What kind of alien did you say you were?”

“I’m a human,” Dib said, side-eying the tentacled aliens as they did a sweep of the cabin, checking the hatches and tapping on the doors. One paused to assess the locked door to Dib’s chamber. Shit, what was he going to do when they let GIR out?

“Human, how unique! I’ll have to update my database,” the green alien said. “Oh, pardon me, I’ve forgotten myself. My name is Smikka Smikka Smoodoo. And you called yourself Dib Membrane?”

Dib’s eyes snapped forward and widened in surprise. “You own this place?”

“That I do! But please don’t feel sheepish with me. I’m a friendly soul,” Smikka said, his glowing teal eyes twinkling. “I don’t often meet newcomers in the docking bay, but I don’t often encounter new species either. This must be your Irken?”

“Yes,” Dib said, a little too quickly.

Zim’s mouth was a flat, emotionless line. He hadn’t moved an inch since the door had opened.

“Well-trained, I see,” Smikka said, sounding pleased.

It hadn’t even occurred to Dib to restrain Zim in some way. “Oh. Um, yes, he is.”

The corner of Zim’s mouth quivered and Dib caught the briefest glimpse of his teeth.

“Though it appears he didn’t go down without a fight, if I’m not mistaken,” Smikka said, pointing at Dib’s cheek.

Dib lifted a hand to the scar beneath his cheekbone where Zim had slashed him on Sirus Minor several weeks before. Dib kept his mouth closed.

The second tentacled alien joined the first by the door to Dib’s room. They mumbled to each other, facial tendrils wriggling.

Smikka shrugged and continued. “Lots of folks don’t bother breaking their Irkens before they arrive. We get all kinds of feral ones. But they can be quite docile once you assert yourself as their Tallest.”

Dib’s fingernails bit into his palm as he tensed. He could practically feel the rage rolling off of Zim.

“I’ve got one of my own, in fact,” Smikka said, and snapped his fingers. “Beep? Come on in, sweetheart.”

Behind Smikka, an Irken with long, spiraling antennae entered the cabin. She wore a deep gray frock and kept her large, yellow-orange eyes aimed at the floor. She was taller than both Zim and Smikka, her head just a little below Dib’s collarbone.

“How do you do?” she greeted, her voice surprisingly light and sweet.

The tentacled aliens finally unlocked the chamber door and GIR tumbled into the middle of the cabin. The robot pumped his fists and whooped. “You were right! That _was_ fun!”

“Ah, I see you kept the Irken’s SIR unit,” Smikka said, motioning for his armed companions to train their weapons on GIR.

Dib hurried to intervene. “He’s not dangerous. I scrambled his circuitry. Isn’t that right, GIR?”

GIR scuttled over to Dib and wrapped his arms around his leg. “Scrambled beyond repair!” he confirmed.

Zim released a breath a little too audibly.

“GIR, was it? Funny name for a SIR,” said Smikka, but he seemed to be regarding GIR with a degree of affection. The tentacled aliens slowly lowered their guns. “Speaking of, what’s the Irken’s name?”

“My name is Zzz…Zoom,” Zim said. The act of saying a different name appeared to have pained him.

“Zoom, you say? Beep and Zoom. That’s sort of cute, isn’t it?” Smikka said.

Dib smiled and played along. “Sure is. Now, I spent a lot of time training Zoom, and so I’ve changed my mind about giving him to the battle zoo. I’m sure you understand?”

Smikka nodded somberly. “Oh, I do understand, Captain. Unfortunately, it’s against our policy to allow Irkens to leave the station once they’re here. Not without successfully completing the Champion Board Challenge.”

“The Champion Board Challenge?” Dib and Zim said simultaneously.

“That’s right. If your Zoom here can win three battles in the stadium within one rotation, he’ll be added to the Champion Board. If he does that three times, he’ll be released. You can take him with you again, with a few conditions. We can discuss that when we get to it, though.”

Dib didn’t like the sound of “conditions,” but it was evident that Smikka wasn’t ready to talk about those. “How long is a rotation?”

“About 20 hours,” Smikka said. He checked a band on his wrist, which Dib supposed was a watch. “You know, you’ve arrived at the perfect time. We have a fight scheduled shortly, but one of our challengers has tragically succumbed to her injuries. We need a replacement, and Zoom appears to be a suitable candidate.”

“Are these fights to the death?” Dib asked, forcing the waver out of his voice.

Smikka laughed. “Not to worry, Captain. That wouldn’t be sustainable entertainment. Besides, Irkens are notoriously difficult to kill… Though if any creature knows how to destroy an Irken, it’s another Irken.”

Dib glanced at Zim, who kept his attention forward.

“Casualties have been known to happen, however. Hence the present opening,” Smikka said. “So, what do you say? You can even join me in my box to watch the fight.”

GIR whined and clung tighter to Dib’s leg.

Dib started to reply. “I’m not sure-”

“I’ll do it,” Zim announced.

Smikka’s smile was eerily wide on his round face. “That’s the spirit. I’ve never known an Irken to turn down a fight. Shall we?”

Zim nodded sharply at Dib.

“Uh…” Dib looked down into GIR’s eyes. “Sure. OK. But I’d like to leave the SIR unit with my ship for safekeeping.”

Water immediately spurted from GIR’s eyes. “NOOO! I’m gonna go with my master!”

“I’m your master now, remember?” Dib said, hating the words he knew he had to say.

GIR sniffled. “I _don’t_ remember.”

Dib shifted uncomfortably. “Well, it’s the truth, so…”

“I guess it is,” GIR said. “So I’m gonna go with you!”

“No, you’re going to listen to what I tell you to do,” Dib said. He thought he heard Zim snort, if such a thing were possible without nostrils.

“Hmmm…” GIR tilted his head. “No, I don’t think that’s how it works.”

Smikka laughed again. “Scrambled indeed, isn’t he?”

GIR’s head rotated toward Smikka. “New master, I gotta protect you from that there robot.”

Dib covered his hand with his mouth and wondered if that was a culturally insensitive thing for GIR to say. “GIR, no, he’s not a robot.” Or maybe he was? Dib wasn’t actually certain.

“That’s OK,” said Smikka, sounding as kind as ever, despite all evidence to the contrary. “We of the Screwhead race are accustomed to such confusion. Now, if you’d come with me?”

GIR detached from Dib’s leg as the human begrudgingly followed Smikka and Beep out of the ship. Zim came after, escorted by the tentacled henchmen. The docking bay was wide and cold and filled with other parked vessels of all shapes, sizes, and colors. Dib wished he could appreciate the spectacle of it all, but he simply couldn’t. Maybe Zim thought he was good in a fight, but he’d been bested by a 12 year old on dozens of occasions. Dib had to figure something out before Zim got obliterated.

A series of tall doors loomed ahead. Smikka stopped in front of them and smiled at Dib. “I’m afraid this is where you’ll need to say goodbye to your pet. We don’t permit interaction between captors and their Irkens until the challenge has been completed. Not that this is an issue for most people. However, I sense you’re a bit sentimental with Zoom.”

Dib stammered over his words. “I, well, I wouldn’t, uh…”

Smikka held up his hands placatingly. “Not to worry! If anyone understands your situation, it’s me. I do care so deeply for my Beep. She’s a treasure.”

Beep smiled vacuously, her eyes distant, unfocused.

“Go on, then,” Smikka encouraged.

“Oh… With everyone here? Watching?” Of course. What did he expect? “Right… uh, Zoom?”

Zim faced him, eyes unreadable.

“You’re going to kick some ass, right?” Dib said, forcing a grin.

“Certainly,” Zim replied. A trickle of sweat angled down his cheek.

If ever there was a moment to magically develop psychic powers, it was now. Dib tried to push his thoughts into Zim’s head, reassure him that it would be OK, that he was right to trust him. He wanted to say to Zim all the things he wished he could believe for himself.

“Great. I’ll be watching, so don’t let me down, OK?” Dib slid his hand over Zim’s antennae as if he were petting him. His thumb caught the base of the communication film and dragged up to activate it.

“I won’t let you down,” Zim said. He leaned his head into Dib’s palm, almost like a cat. Dib stifled his surprise.

The tentacle-aliens stepped between them and marched Zim through one of the doors. GIR whimpered and danced from foot to foot but managed not to chase after them. A small victory.

Dib pretended to brush his hair behind his ear, activating his own comm strip as he did.

“No sad faces, Captain,” Smikka said, patting Dib on the back. It was all Dib could do not to deck him in his smug, beady-eyed face. “I think you’re really going to like the show.”


	2. Chapter 2

Zim mentally rehearsed his “I told you this was a dumb idea” monologue as he was prodded down a long, monotonous hallway by gun-toting guards. He recognized his keepers as Large Nostril People, their eponymous organs hidden beneath their flapping orange tentacles. Another formerly conquered society, no doubt delighted to be shoving Zim through a maze of cold, gray corridors.

Zim wasn’t scared. Not even when the Large Nostril People tossed him into a cramped chamber and doused him with a rain of pungent chemicals. Zim yelped as the decontamination spray seeped through his clothes and stung his flesh.

“You OK?” a familiar voice whispered into his antenna.

“I’m amazing,” Zim hissed as the nozzles shut off above him. A burst of warm air dried him, but his skin still felt a bit damp and sticky. Nothing new. He’d been in a decontamination chamber before. They were never comfortable, but they were essentially harmless.

Zim wanted to give Dib an earful but couldn’t risk blowing their cover. So far, their communicators had gone undetected. Something akin to pride warmed Zim’s chest, which was odd, because the communicators weren’t his design, so why should he feel proud of them?

His thoughts were interrupted by a sturdy tentacle hooking around his neck and tossing him back into the hallway. No, Zim wasn’t scared. He was a highly-skilled Irken invader. He’d sparred with other Irkens on plenty of occasions back in the day. He’d be on the “Champion Board” in no time. Maybe he could beat the entire challenge before Dib could break him out. Honestly, Dib was just the backup plan. Nothing to worry about.

Zim just hoped Dib could keep it together until then. Humans were so sappy. Dib was probably a wreck without him. Perhaps this little mishap would make Dib regret how gung-ho and self-righteous he’d been about this pet project of his. How delicious it would be to watch the Dib apologize for getting them into this mess. Maybe he’d even grovel.

Of course, Zim didn’t want Dib to suffer _too_ much. Zim had tried to make that clear when they’d separated in the docking bay by allowing Dib to pet him (without even losing any fingers). His hand had been so warm against Zim’s head…

Was the corridor getting narrower? Darker?

“How much longer are we going to be walking?” Zim asked, unable to stop himself.

Sparks scattered across his vision as the butt of one of the guard’s guns cracked against Zim’s skull. A PAK leg extended reflexively in self-defense only to be encircled by a tendril and forced back, buckling it in on itself.

Zim gasped from the shock of it more than the pain. He hurriedly tucked the rest of the leg back in before it could be damaged.

“Huh? Oh, nothing, Sir,” said Dib through the communicator, and it took Zim a second to clear his head enough to realize the words weren’t meant for him. “OK. Smikka. And yes, it’s… It’s really impressive up here.”

Zim assumed that meant Dib, GIR, and Smikka Smikka Suck-a-dick-a or whatever were already in the box Smikka had mentioned.

One of the guards shoved Zim forward. This time, Zim understood the need to walk in silence. Fortunately, there wasn’t much further to go. Zim rounded a corner and was thrust into a dark, high-ceilinged room. He froze as the door closed behind him, sealing out the last of the light. Zim blinked rapidly, as if that would help his ocular implants adjust any faster.

In his antenna, Dib chattered, but Zim couldn’t focus on his words. He hoped they were for Smikka, not for him, and wondered if he should turn his communicator off until he could figure out what was going on with this room.

“Combatant Zoom. Approach,” said an electronic voice, grainier and even less emotive than the docking bay AI.

Neon blue arrows illuminated on the floor in front of him, flickering like runway lights, directing him across the void.

“Approach,” the voice repeated.

Zim took a step forward onto one of the pulsing arrows. When he wasn’t instantly maimed by an invisible force (not that he was frightened of such a possibility), he stepped again. Nothing. Safe.

“This is fine,” he said.

If Dib heard him, he didn’t reply.

Zim puffed out his chest and strode along the blue trail. Ahead, a slim bar of white light appeared, growing gradually taller. A door sliding up into an unseen wall. Zim maintained his pace, unintimidated. He squinted against the stark contrast and passed through the door.

The roar of the crowd hit him in one monstrous wave and Zim instinctively crouched, claws at the ready, confused by the abrupt change in volume and visibility. The lights blinded him and he could hardly make out anything beyond the triangular metal tile upon which he stood.

“Dib!” he called before he could stop himself.

“The stadium is so bright,” Dib said, enunciating his words.

Right, Dib probably couldn’t talk directly with him while so close to Smikka. But at least he’d confirmed that Zim was indeed in the stadium. Which meant…

The cheers were for Zim.

He straightened up and shaded his eyes against the glare of the lights, which he could now see hovering like miniature suns above the three corners of the stadium. Zim had emerged from one of the stadium walls, beyond which several dozen rows of stands stacked, filled with exuberant fans. There had to be thousands of people of all kinds of species in the audience, all on their feet and shouting for Zim!

Zim posed with his fists in the air, grinning madly.

“… Uh-huh. I just hope he focuses on the task at hand,” Dib’s voice said.

“Don’t be such a wart of worry,” Zim said as he waved at his admirers. He felt so light, so _powerful._ All these people, looking at him! Praising him!

“OK, Smikka just left the box to make an announcement,” Dib said. “You have to be on your toes. Apparently, you’re up against a guy who is one win away from getting on the Champion Board for the first time. Which, by the way, is a very literal thing. Look to your right.”

Zim did, and discovered a broad stage centered above that third of the wall, behind which towered a structure resembling an enormous slab of Earth-bee honeycomb. Hexagonal segments in the pale yellow wall housed Irken silhouettes, floating in place as if pinned there. Even from a moderate distance, Zim could make out their features clearly. They all appeared more or less relaxed and healthy. Some even munched on packets of some sort of snack food.

“It reminds me of the bug collections Gaz and I used to make,” Dib said with an air of disgust. “Pinning beetles to corkboard… I still remember that weird, dusty smell.”

“They all look fine to me,” Zim said. “Especially that guy in the upper right. Wow, look at the guns on that one… What’s that other thing you Earthlings say? A beefcake. An absolute unit.”

“They all look really strong, Zim,” Dib said.

“And Zim will be joining them soon,” Zim said, flexing his bicep and giving it a little kiss.

“Just be smart, OK?”

“I’m the most smart.”

“Smartest,” said Dib.

“I’m glad you agree.”

A dramatic fanfare piped through the stadium, and the crowd quieted.

“Ladies, gentlemen, fair-folk, and beyond!” Smikka’s voice echoed though the space. “Welcome to the final battle of Rotation 934!”

The crowd applauded thunderously.

“We have a new contender this evening: an invader so ineffective that he was delivered here on his own ship by a species that hasn’t even mastered traveling within their solar system! Please welcome Invader Zoom!”

The applause mingled with raucous laughter and jeers. Zim’s antennae flattened against his head and he gaped at the figures in the stands above him. They didn’t understand! He wasn’t the captive. If anyone was, it was the Dib. They’d gotten it all wrong!

Dib’s voice interjected. “Zim, focus…”

Zim swallowed, tightened his fists, and reminded himself that he was technically undercover. He’d get his revenge on Smikka and every pitiful creature on this deplorable station eventually. The first step was to beat the tar out of his opponent. _That_ would teach them to call the mighty Zim “ineffective.”

“Opposite Zoom: an Irken we’ve all come to know and loathe these past 10 rotations. One victory away from a place on the Champion Board… Will he finally get his third win tonight?”

A door on the wall in front of Zim opened, and a stubby-bodied Irken appeared. Zim smiled. This lumpy nobody didn’t stand a chance against Zim. It wasn’t even fair.

“What he lacks in height he makes up for in not being dead yet,” Smikka said. “It’s Invader Skidge!”

The crowd whooped as “Skidge” waved a meek hand in greeting. Zim spat onto the floor.

“Hey… does that guy seem familiar to you?” Dib asked.

“Never seen him in my life,” said Zim.

“It’s so weird…” Dib said. “He reminds me of the Ghost Professional from Mysterious Mysteries.”

“Now, let’s see what terrain the Battle Zoo has in store for this match,” Smikka said.

The floor rumbled beneath Zim’s feet and he backed up against the wall for safety. The triangular tiles rippled and flipped in a wave that expanded from the center of the stadium. As each plate turned, the floor transformed into a lush meadow, bursting with wildflowers in vibrant pinks, blues, and yellows. The glass dome overhead – previously speckled with stars – fogged into a mild lavender sky.

Zim was almost offended by the pastoral scene in front of him. “What? This is no place for a great battle!”

“Zim…” Dib warned.

Smikka’s voice filled the stadium again. “Contenders, get ready…”

Zim braced himself, preparing to rise up on his PAK legs. Across from him, about 60 yards away, Skidge just stood there, staring at him. _What an idiot._

“FIGHT!”

Zim’s PAK legs launched free of his PAK and hoisted him into the air. In the same instant, Skidge’s laser deployed over his shoulder and fired a bright energy beam. Zim couldn’t react fast enough; it was as if Skidge had predicted his action. The beam sliced through the side of Zim’s thigh.

Zim cursed and skittered to the side, clasping a hand over his bleeding leg even as he dodged another blast.

“Lucky shot!” Zim shouted at his assailant. “Think you can dodge this?”

Zim charged at Skidge on three PAK legs, keeping one leg raised as a laser.

Skidge was there one second, gone the next. His movements were a blur… No matter how quickly Zim changed the direction of his fire, Skidge blinked out of the way before he could be hit. Zim howled in frustration and fired at random, ignoring how swiftly his energy reserves were depleting. It didn’t matter. A few good hits and he could incapacitate this zippy little piece of shit.

Out of nowhere, an energy bolt severed one of his grounded PAK legs at the joint. Unbalanced, Zim crashed to the ground. He sputtered petals and soil from his mouth as he rolled to his feet, wincing as he put pressure on his injured leg.

“Behind you!”

Zim registered Dib’s warning too late. Skidge slammed into his back and tackled him into the dirt beneath the canopy of blossoms. Skidge sat down hard on Zim’s back, pinning him facedown before gathering Zim’s flailing PAK legs to the side with both hands. Zim bucked and screamed, infuriated by Skidge’s unexpected strength.

“Surrender and I won’t hurt you,” Skidge said. Zim hated that the other Irken didn’t even sound out of breath.

“No, you surrender and I won’t hurt _you_!” Zim said, wrenching his head to the side so he could glare up at Skidge.

Skidge’s antennae fluttered over Zim’s face. “Wait… Zim? Is that you?”

Zim stopped struggling. “You recognize Zim?”

“Yeah, of course I do. It’s me! It’s Skoodge!” He smiled widely. “Wow, it’s great to see you again! But I really need you to surrender. I’m going to break all of the Irkens out of here, but I have to get to the Champion Board to do it.”

“Zim? What’s going on? I can’t see you through the flowers. Does Skidge know you?” Dib asked.

Zim ignored Dib and kicked violently to the side, rolling out from beneath Skoodge and pinning him with his newly freed PAK legs. Skoodge frowned but didn’t fight back.

Zim leaned close to Skoodge’s antennae. “I am also here to free the prisoners,” he said. “Just follow my lead.”

Skoodge’s forehead crinkled into an expression of uncertainty. “Gee, I don’t know, Zim. Do you remember when you and I tried to break out of the training chambers back on Irk?”

Zim searched his memory. “Vaguely…”

“Remember how you sacrificed me to a security bot to do that? And then plunged Irk into darkness?” Skoodge paused before adding, “Again?”

Instead of recalling the alleged escape attempt, images of the Spike of Judgement flooded Zim’s mind. The Control Brains poised in the darkness above, cables snaking down toward Zim’s PAK, giant monitors replaying his memories in front of a jeering crowd…

Skoodge’s mellow voice cut in. “Zim? Are you alright?”

“Come on out, lovebugs! You weren’t invited here for a romantic picnic!” Smikka taunted through the stadium speakers. “But you know what no picnic is complete without? Plookesian Vampire Bees!”

Dib gasped in Zim’s antenna. “They’re real! I knew it!”

Zim jumped away from Skoodge on his three functional PAK limbs. “Where are they? Do you see them?”

“On your seven,” Dib said.

Zim turned around as a large, dripping hive ascended on a pedestal out of the weeds. A cacophony of buzzing and hissing sounded from the hive as it rose and Zim knew he had little time to waste. He stumbled back toward Skoodge, who had also deployed his PAK limbs.

“Skoodge, you must play dead before the bees get to us. They’ll call them back if one of us wins, yes?”

“Theoretically, yes, but I’m not going to do that,” Skoodge said, his tone a touch apologetic. “Please listen to me. I only need one more win, and then I’ll go on the board. I have a bug in my PAK that can freeze the whole station. When they plug me in, I’ll be able to lock down the Battle Zoo, release the captives, and hijack a transporter out of here.”

The first few bees emerged from the hive and gathered into a staticky swarm. Zim and Skoodge backed further away, causing the crowd to boo in disappointment. Zim pinned his antennae back, trying to block them out.

Skoodge rubbed his hands together. “OK, here’s what I’m thinking: We keep sparring for a bit so Smikka doesn’t get suspicious. Once the bees get close, I’ll pretend to knock you out in order to win the round. After I’ve locked the spectator sections of the stadium down, you and I can retrieve the prisoners and evacuate them.”

The swarm expanded towards them, their buzzing so intense that Zim’s antennae involuntarily twitched. More angry shouts erupted from the audience.

“No. I’m not doing that,” Zim said, his mouth unexpectedly dry.

“What? I don’t understand,” Skoodge said.

The buzzing, the booing, Dib’s voice asking some other inane question… Zim couldn’t process it all. This had to stop. He’d _make_ it stop.

“I’m not losing to you!” he exploded, lunging at Skoodge.

Zim didn’t bother with his laser. He slashed at Skoodge with his claws, raking them through Skoodge’s shoulder as the other Irken tried to evade. Skoodge cried out in surprise and shuffled backwards before Zim could swipe again.

“What’s happening right now? Isn’t this dude on our side?” Dib asked.

“Shut up!” Zim shouted. “I can’t think over all this noise!”

Zim launched himself at Skoodge again with no plan beyond sinking his claws deep into Skoodge’s gut. Surely that would incapacitate him. Then Zim would win, and the crowd would cheer for him, and then he’d win two more times, and he’d take Skoodge’s bug and use it on the board to save the day, and Dib wouldn’t have to rescue him again.

Skoodge ducked just before Zim reached him. As Zim passed overhead, Skoodge shot upward, fist first, punching Zim in the spooch hard enough to knock all the wind from his body. The impact tossed Zim up a few feet, giving Skoodge the opportunity to grapple two of his metal legs and use them to swing Zim’s body around in a circle.

Zim sucked in a painful gulp of air just in time for Skoodge to release him, slinging him across the artificial meadow like an Irken torpedo. As Zim touched down and tumbled across the ground, he blearily appreciated the fact that he’d been tossed _away_ from the mass of agitated bees. If Skoodge really knew what he was doing, he’d have thrown Zim at the hive. How could an Irken as incompetent as Skoodge hope to make it to the Champion Board in the first place?

Zim stumbled upright, one hand clutching his aching ribs. He’d just opened his mouth to call Skoodge out on his poor strategy when a pair of PAK legs swiped his feet out from under him. Zim landed awkwardly on his PAK, his vision swimming.

Dib’s voice sounded strangely distant as Zim blinked up at the false lavender sky. “GIR? What are you… Hey! Stop!”

Skoodge’s head appeared among the softly swaying flowers above him. “If you stay down, they’ll call it a knockout, OK? We’ll be out of here soon.”

Zim bared his teeth and lashed out with a clumsy PAK leg at Skoodge, who managed to lean out of range. Zim’s blood boiled at the pity in Skoodge’s eyes. He climbed once more to his feet, ready to continue their brawl despite the soreness in his body.

“I’m real sorry about this, Zim,” Skoodge said, his antennae drooping back.

A flash of reflective metal in his periphery, the sharp impact of a PAK limb against the back of his neck, and then a curtain of darkness as Zim passed out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo, you know how this chapter is twice as long as previous ones? More info about that at the end.

Once, when Dib and Gaz were very young, Professor Membrane took them to a baseball game at Wiggly Field. The trip had been a technology showcase packaged as a family vacation, but despite Dib’s lingering bitterness, he remembered the outing fondly. His father had designed a time dilation device to hasten the pace of the game (citing the dwindling attention spans of its spectators), and Dib dimly recalled some sort of fiasco surrounding that, but as a kid, he hadn’t really cared. He and Gaz blissfully munched on hot dogs and popcorn in the stands under the watchful eye of a research assistant while chaos unfolded on the diamond below.

Dib had been excited to be around so many people, all smiling and enthusiastic and decked out in their favorite teams’ colors. Even Gaz had occasionally spared a glance over her Game Slave to smile at the antics of the competing mascots. The atmosphere was communal and celebratory in a world that often felt bleak and isolated.

Young Dib delighted in the energy of the stadium, grateful to be in a place where his fanaticism was encouraged instead of smothered. He didn’t know the first thing about baseball, but he understood to leap up and cheer with the rest of the stands when something dramatic happened on the pitch. It only lasted for a day, but it was nice to feel part of something so big and bright and happy.

The atmosphere of Smikka Smikka Smoodoo’s Screw You Battle Zoo was very similar, down to the concession stands and throngs of fans. But instead of joy, Dib was engulfed by dread.

Smikka led the way through the tiers of the stadium, rattling off information about the station’s construction and galaxy-renowned facilities. He paused every so often to greet fans and thank them for coming out to the show while Dib did his best not to stare at the fantastical species around him. Every so often, Smikka would ask something about Earth, and Dib would try to answer honestly, if minimally. Smikka was particularly intrigued by Dib’s admittance that humans hadn’t mastered off-world travel, a fact which Dib regretted sharing almost immediately. He needed to maintain credence with this guy, and if Smikka thought of him as a backwater bumpkin, Dib could only envision negative consequences.

When Smikka wasn’t questioning him or showing him off to other guests, Dib absorbed all he could about the stadium itself. The place was packed. Dib identified family groups, smiling at each other, pointing toward the empty, triangular plane below with great eagerness. Some packs of aliens wore matching shirts covered in Battle Zoo slogans and cartoons of squished Irkens. What a distasteful tourist trap…

At some point, Zim squealed in his ear, as if in pain. Dib covered his mouth, pretending to stifle a sneeze, and whispered, “You OK?”

Zim said something about being amazing, but Dib couldn’t concentrate on the response as Beep stepped in front of him, smiling mildly.

“Are you well, Captain Dib Membrane?” she asked in a soft voice.

Dib nodded, trying not to speak in order to prevent confusion with Zim. He’d have to modify these communicators in the future… Having them on all the time complicated conversations.

“Good,” Beep said, smiling wider. Her eyes – bright as polished amber, yet always a little distant – never seemed to blink. “We should catch up with Ringmaster Smoodoo. Please follow.”

Dib trailed Beep as she wove her way through the crowd, noting how the other aliens recoiled from her presence in disgust and apprehension. Dib tightened his hold on GIR’s hand and picked up his pace. For the moment, GIR was too distracted by some kind of oversized alien corn dog to cause a scene. The robot chewed cheerfully and allowed himself to be towed along like a toddler at a county fair.

Beep waved Dib forward to a wall of glass elevators. Smikka already stood inside one, holding the door open and grinning at Dib. As Dib stepped inside, he was reminded of _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory…_ except that this extraterrestrial Willy Wonka was even more ethically dubious.

Or was he? Dib considered the fact that the Earthen Willy Wonka had basically murdered a tour group of children (that’s what happened, right?), and Smikka had, what? Captured a bunch of war criminals and then promised to release them after a challenge? Surely that was better than straight-up exterminating them. But he’d mentioned casualties, and it wasn’t exactly within the Geneva Conventions to pit prisoners against each other in blood-baths for a chance at freedom.

Then again, Geneva was lightyears away. Maybe this was the best case scenario for a collection of abandoned invaders. How many hadn’t survived their rebelling planets?

Zim’s words rolled around in Dib’s head. _“Don’t you think they might deserve that?”_

The elevator shot up, the crowd rapidly shrinking into a colorful mass of dots below. Beep stared forward through the glass, still smiling despite the hollowness of her eyes. Dib couldn’t imagine this docile little alien doing anything too evil. Did _she_ deserve this life of subservience?

Another, much more ominous theory surfaced in Dib’s brain. Had something been done to her? To make her behave this way?

Dib stared at Beep’s PAK as he followed her and Smikka off the elevator onto a platform high above the rest of the stands. Several small rooms perched along the platform at an angle, offering a sprawling view of the battleground many feet below.

Zim suddenly asked a question in his ear, but before Dib could decide whether it was for him or not, he winced at the sharp crack of an impact, followed by a ragged gasp. Dib released a quiet curse and froze, alarmed and straining to hear something other than Zim’s quick breaths.

Smikka turned, no doubt wondering why he’d stopped. “What was that, Captain?”

“Huh? Oh, nothing, Sir,” Dib said, desperately trying to look casual.

“Please, no need for such formality. Call me Smikka.” Smikka held open the door to one of the boxes for Dib to pass through. “What do you think? Aren’t these the best seats in the house?”

Dib entered the small room, pulling GIR along with him. “OK. Smikka. And yes, it’s… It’s really impressive up here.”

And it was. Smikka’s box was equipped with a row of plush seats, a sleek and fully-stocked wet bar, and a few stylish, abstract sculptures (or Dib assumed they were abstract… as far as he knew, the curved metal statues could be representations of an alien species he’d never seen). The front of the room was a large bubble of glass, allowing a wide view of the stadium.

Dib’s eyes were drawn to a tall, golden-yellow structure bisecting one of the walls of stands. “Smikka? What’s that?”

“Why, it’s the Champion Board, of course!” Smikka said, joining Dib by the window. “See the champions?”

“Oh… uh, wow…” Dib said, hoping he sounded sufficiently impressed. He counted nine Irken figures suspended on the board, all of them considerably taller and brawnier than Zim. Dib hadn’t even known that Irkens could _be_ buff.

“Zoom will be up against an Irken who’s one win away from getting on the board for the first time. Should make for a very interesting fight,” Smikka said.

“This is fine,” Zim muttered into his ear. Good, at least he was OK. For now.

Dib paced the length of the window, trying to commit the three-sided stadium to memory. Lots of stands, a few concession booths built into the platforms, the glowing Champion Board… Smikka had mentioned that the station also included guest housing, restaurants, and a network of holding cells for the prisoners, but Dib wasn’t sure how those sections connected to the arena. He needed to examine the data he’d pulled earlier… Maybe he’d missed something. Perhaps the data needed to be translated differently, or possibly decoded.

“Why don’t you take a seat, Captain?” Smikka extended a hand toward one of the luxurious, purple-upholstered chairs.

“Dib is fine,” Dib said, tearing his eyes away from the board. He sank into the cushioned seat and GIR immediately jumped into his lap, the corn dog now completely devoured. The snack had temporarily satiated GIR, and the robot snuggled into Dib’s arms like a contented lap dog. Dib absentmindedly stroked the smooth metal of the back of GIR’s head as Smikka took a seat next to him.

Applause swelled from the crowd beneath the box as the floating spheres of light in each corner of the stadium burned brighter.

“Ah, we’re getting close,” Smikka said, leaning forward in his seat. “Beep, fetch the refreshments.”

Beep nodded her head and proceeded to the counter of the bar. Dib wanted to protest, but couldn’t afford to raise red flags with Smikka. He was undercover. Best to ride it out and play the part of intrigued special guest.

“Dib!” Zim’s voice called, loud enough that Dib reflexively moved to cover his ear.

One of the walls on the floor level of the arena had opened slightly, allowing a familiar figure onto the field. Zim looked startled and confused, but no worse for wear than when they’d parted.

“The stadium is so bright,” Dib said in an attempt to give Zim some context.

That seemed to do the trick. Zim – antlike from this distance – straightened up slightly. His antennae zipped wildly around, taking in the audience. Dib held back a groan as Zim pumped his fists and waved regally at the stands, having made the transition from feral animal in a cage to celebrity on the red carpet in a matter of seconds.

Smikka chuckled and slapped his knee. “Why, what do you know? He’s a natural in front of a crowd.”

“… Uh-huh. I just hope he focuses on the task at hand,” Dib said.

Zim sassed back and Dib blocked it out.

Beep returned with two glasses of something orange and oddly viscous on a platter. Smikka stood and took his glass. Dib hesitantly picked up the other, careful not to disturb the sleeping GIR in his lap. The glass was uncomfortably warm to the touch.

Smikka raised his drink in a toast. “Cheers, Dib. I need to introduce our contenders, but please feel free to make use of this room in my absence. Beep will be happy to keep you company.”

Dib started to make an excuse to get rid of Smikka’s creepy Irken servant, but Beep beat him to it.

“Ringmaster, I’d like to accompany you, if you don’t mind,” Beep said in a low but firm voice.

Smikka stopped in place and his small, bright eyes flashed. Dib tensed, worried that Beep was about to be punished for speaking out of turn. But what could he do? Spring up and intervene with his bare hands? Blow the entire mission? Get both Zim and himself trapped in a battle prison for the rest of their (assuredly short) lives?

But Smikka’s calculating expression melted into a genial smile. “Of course. Come along then. We’ll return after the match, Dib.”

Smikka gave a playful salute before he and Beep departed.

Everything that followed happened in a blur. One moment, Dib was against the glass, cradling the unconscious GIR and arguing with Zim, and then the arena had transformed into a flowery oasis, and then Zim was getting the daylights kicked out of him by a strangely familiar Irken who was, as far as Dib could gather from the one-sided fragments of conversation he gleaned through Zim’s communicator, an ally of sorts. Or at least also interested in freeing the Irken prisoners. It wasn’t clear.

What _was_ clear, however, was GIR’s growing agitation.

GIR came to with an exaggerated yawn. He flopped out of Dib’s arms and splattered himself against the glass window. Dib kept a wary eye on him as GIR took in the scene below with uncharacteristic focus, but it was hard for Dib to split his attention between GIR and Zim.

When GIR’s eyes shifted to red for the first time, Dib nearly missed it. He only caught their reflection in the glass, and by the time he looked away from the battlefield, GIR’s eyes were a placid teal once again.

In the arena, Zim was losing it. He lunged with rabid ferocity at his opponent, whom Dib had to admit was quicker and more precise in battle than Zim was. Dib grimaced as Zim was gut-punched and then whirled around like a plaything by his PAK legs. At least this “Skidge” or whatever didn’t seem intent on murder. From what Dib could gather, the other Irken was trying to give Zim an out, but Zim wasn’t taking it.

And of course he wasn’t. Zim was vain and impulsive and incapable of taking instruction from others, even when his life was on the line.

Dib was about to lecture Zim on that point when he noticed GIR’s eyes for the second time. “GIR? What are you…”

GIR’s eyes and panels burned a hateful red as the robot began to pound his fists against the window.

“Hey! Stop!”

Dib reached for him but then drew back as GIR’s crimson eyes fell on him.

“I must preserve my master,” GIR stated before turned back to the glass, his eyes powering up with a whir.

Shit. He was going to laser the glass and jump down there. The whole operation would be ruined. They’d all be killed without a second thought.

Dib searched the room for something to inhibit the robot. “Really, GIR? You’re choosing now to follow protocol?”

Dib flung open a cabinet drawer beneath the bar. Success! He rattled a can of some sort of hard candy above his head.

“GIR! Check this out!”

GIR’s concentration broke, red fizzling to teal. He faced Dib, rubbing his hands in anticipation. “Ooo! Whazzat?”

Through the window behind GIR, Dib witnessed something bizarre. Zim had fallen to the ground, apparently unconscious, but his PAK legs still writhed about. They hoisted his slack form and began to scurry away, bearing their host along despite how unresponsive Zim appeared to be. Once the legs reached the stadium’s border, a robotic arm jutted from a panel in the wall, releasing an arc of electricity directly into Zim’s PAK. The legs spasmed, crumpled, and became as inert as their owner.

Dib’s mind raced. A defense mechanism? That was new. To be fair, however, Dib had only seen Zim fully unconscious on a few occasions, mostly by intention (Irkens don’t sleep… what bullshit). It _had_ to be a defense mechanism, considering Smikka had installed a contraption to interrupt it. Or, Dib _hoped_ it was merely an interruption.

“Zim?” he said, edging toward the window for a better view, still shaking the candy tin to distract GIR.

No response.

“Can you hear me?” Dib asked. “Don’t get up or anything. Just stay down and let Skidge do his thing. But answer me, OK? Are you alright?”

Nothing.

Dib mumbled a curse. Zim was out. Like it or not, he had to rely on the other Irken’s plan for now, whatever that was.

GIR let out a high, distressed whine and clasped his hands to his head. His eyes flickered between red and teal while the tip of his antenna blinked a steady red. Distantly, Dib registered Smikka making another announcement as the crowd roared, but Dib didn’t have time to waste on that. GIR’s face was warped in discomfort and his body jerked and quivered as if enduring an electrical current.

“GIR, focus on me, OK?” Dib said, holding the candy in front of himself as bait. GIR’s eyes locked on it, but without the giddy, childlike energy he’d had before. He was fighting something within himself, and Dib couldn’t tell which part of GIR was winning.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” Dib said, mostly to himself. He waved the candy again and backed toward the door of the box. “Follow me, GIR. Keep your eyes on the tin.”

GIR’s head twitched. “My master… I must… respond!”

Thoughts sped through Dib’s mind. If GIR was struggling with his programming, maybe Dib could reason around that. “You want to help Zim, right?”

GIR nodded stiffly, eyes watering, hands still glued to the sides of his head.

“The best way to help him is by staying calm and coming with me,” Dib said. “Zim’s going to be OK, but if you bust through that window, we’re ALL going to be in for it. Do you understand?”

GIR whimpered, which Dib took as affirmation.

“Good. We’ll get back on the ship and cool down, alright?”

To Dib’s relief, GIR took a few steps toward him. The blinking of his antenna slowed a little, which Dib hoped was a good sign. Still, GIR’s movements were too slow and labored. Out in the arena, the battlefield was folding back into a plain floor. Dib imagined there’d be some kind of ceremony for Skidge’s ascension to the board, but he had no idea how long it would last, or if there would be any fanfare to it in the first place. Smikka could theoretically be back at any moment. What would he do if he saw GIR on the brink of a meltdown? There would certainly be consequences.

“I’m sorry about this, buddy, but we’ve got to move a little faster than this,” Dib said as he dropped the candy and hefted GIR into his arms.

GIR didn’t protest. The lenses of his eyes narrowed themselves like the shutters of a camera but he managed to stay a neutral shade of blue while Dib held him to his chest as if he were a child.

Dib shoved the box door open with his shoulder and nearly tripped over his own feet as something darted out of sight around the edge of the platform. Had someone seen them? Did it matter? He’d have to explain his absence to Smikka one way or another, but that was a problem for future Dib.

Dib ran toward the elevators, which happily operated on the same basic principles as Earth elevators. Press a button and go. Simple. Less simple with a spasming robot in your arms, but manageable. Through the glass wall of the elevator, Dib watched as Skidge ascended a set of stairs toward the Champion Board. Smikka awaited him on the stage, and Dib mentally noted that there must be a passageway between wherever Smikka had been announcing from and the board.

Zim, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen, presumably carted off to the holding chambers Smikka had briefly mentioned.

GIR’s antenna blinked more rapidly and he let out a keening noise. Dib tightened his hold on GIR, whose body radiated an unusual heat.

“Keep it together, little guy,” he whispered as the elevator doors opened on the main level of the stadium.

Fortunately, most of the crowd was transfixed by whatever was happening on the stage. Dib hurried past the few stragglers not in their seats, power-walking for his life, desperate to appear casual and _not_ like he was carrying a sentient timebomb with him.

The noise of the stadium faded behind Dib as he exited via the same passage Smikka had led him through earlier. The impact of Dib’s shoes echoed through the vacant corridor as he followed the signs toward the docking bay. The halls appeared empty, but Dib feared a curious guard might hop out to intercept them.

At least the blinking of GIR’s antenna had slowed again, but Dib still wasn’t sure what that meant, considering GIR’s panels continued to switch wildly between colors.

“Can you tell me what that blinking is about?” Dib asked, partially in hopes of an answer, but mostly to distract GIR again.

“PAK proximity,” GIR replied with shocking lucidity.

Dib’s sneakers squeaked as he rounded a corner. “Zim’s PAK is signaling you?”

“Distress protocol has been initiated,” GIR said in a voice too low and electronic for Dib’s comfort. “I am required to assist my master.”

Dib laughed with anxious mania as the docking bay entry doors came into view. “We’re assisting him, I promise! Does the distress protocol shut down once you’re out of range?”

GIR tilted his head back and fired a blast of energy from his eyes. The beam shot over Dib’s shoulder and exploded into the ceiling behind him, shattering a light fixture and darkening that portion of that hall.

Dib shouted in surprise and kicked open the docking bay door. “GIR! You’re going to get us all killed!”

GIR’s eyes cooled to their natural state, tears forming and then steaming away from the residual heat of the laser. “I’m trying!”

“To get us killed?” Dib asked, legitimately confused. There were so many aisles of ships… Where the hell was his parked? He took off down a promising row.

“Nooo!” GIR wailed.

A lucky guess landed Dib in front of the Voot. He pressed his hand to a panel on its hatch and it opened for him. He hoisted GIR higher on one hip and clambered into the ship, closing the hatch behind him as soon as he could.

“GIR, status update. Are you going to be OK?” Dib asked, setting the robot down on the cabin floor.

GIR’s antenna blinked slowly and GIR attempted to hide his reddening eyes behind his pincer-like hands.

“Listen, you _cannot_ fire a laser in here, do you understand?” Dib said, a bit rougher than he’d intended.

GIR curled in on himself and mumbled something unintelligible.

Dib glanced out the window. A handful of curious aliens watched from a few rows away, peeking around the corners of larger ships. Maybe it was all too late. Maybe Smikka had a battalion of tentacle monster guards on their way already. Maybe Zim had been killed by that electrical jolt, and all that bullshit Smikka had said about keeping the contenders alive was just to placate them.

Dib swallowed back a lump in his throat. “GIR, why haven’t I seen you do this ‘distress protocol’ thing before? Are you doing it for fun? Is this just a fucking game to you?”

GIR sobbed into the floor.

“Answer me, GIR!” Dib shouted, panic and anger bleeding into each other. “Because if you’re just screwing around, I hope you know that you might have already killed us! Is that what you want? Do you want to die? Do you want _Zim_ to die?”

“No!!! I don’t wanna do it again!” GIR exclaimed, lifting his head and looking Dib directly in the eye. It dawned on Dib that GIR could blast him to pieces if he so chose.

“Do what again?” Dib asked, but by the time the words were out of his mouth, he’d put it together.

He _had_ seen GIR’s distress protocol before, back on Sirus Minor. GIR decimated the crab monster that had cornered Dib and Zim, but he’d done it from the Voot. Dib hadn’t paid GIR much attention, considering he had Zim’s unconscious body and an evil crustacean to distract him at the time. Dib felt sure now that GIR had been following the same protocol, defending his master at all costs.

From the comms panel, Dib hailed the docking bay AI. “This is Captain Dib Membrane, requesting permission for departure.”

A weighty pause. Maybe he was being stupid. Of course they wouldn’t let him go. That death squad he’d imagined before was probably about to blow the Voot to smithereens.

“Granted. Proceed to exit,” said a computerized voice.

“Really?” Dib muttered to himself. Best not to look a gift AI in the mouth. He powered up the Voot’s engines and turned to GIR, who was rolling around on the floor, still fighting with himself. “GIR? I’m getting us out of here. It’s going to be OK.”

GIR only whined and banged his head against the metal floor. Dib grimaced. More guilt to process later.

The Voot lifted into the air and Dib guided it out of the mouth of the bay, still somewhat worried that they’d be shot out of the sky upon departure. Instead, Dib piloted the ship safely away from the station. He positioned the craft a moderate distance from the Battle Zoo and checked in on GIR.

The robot lay flat on the floor, teal eyes facing up. His antenna glowed a consistent blue.

Dib collapsed into the pilot’s seat and exhaled all the tension that had built up within him. “I take it we’re good?”

“We’re aaalllll good!” GIR said, leaping to his feet with a goofy grin. The grin abruptly flattened. “Hey. You were mean. I didn’t even do nothin’ to you.”

“You almost lasered my face off, for starters,” Dib said.

“And ain’t that just the way?” GIR said airily. He climbed onto the control panel and swung his legs cheerfully over the side.

Dib watched him in silence for a few beats. “Look, GIR, if by some miracle I’m still on Smikka’s good side, I can’t bring you back into the Battle Zoo with me. You know that, right?”

GIR stopped swinging his legs. “Is this ‘cause of the face lasers? I said I’m sorry!”

“You didn’t, actually, but no. Well, yes and no. It’s complicated.”

GIR tilted his head, reminding Dib of the creepy-cute puppy suit Zim used to dress him in.

“OK, it’s not really that complicated. We can’t have you freaking out like that, you know? It could get us kill-”

GIR’s eyes were watering again. Dib cleared his throat.

“It could be bad. And you said you didn’t want to do the defense protocol again, so this is how we avoid it.”

“I don’t mind the lasering parts,” GIR corrected. “But I don’t like it when my master naps without me.”

Dib remembered GIR scrambling across the red sand of Sirus Minor, nearly yanking Zim’s body from Dib’s arms. GIR’s waterworks as Dib settled Zim in the repair pod had seemed excessive, but GIR had mourned the loss of a box of frozen taquitos for nearly a week when Zim’s fridge had gone out during their last summer on Earth. GIR’s emotions were as powerful as they were difficult to interpret. Something about GIR’s averted gaze pulled at Dib now, though.

“I’m sorry about the mean stuff I said, OK? I was just worried,” Dib said. He splayed his hand at the space station taking up the majority of the Voot’s windshield. “I don’t even know what to do now. I think that other Irken had an escape plan, but from way out here, there’s no way to know if anything even…”

He trailed off, attention drawn to a speck drifting above the dome of the station’s arena.

“…Happened,” Dib finished, squinting at the tiny pink dot. “GIR, are you seeing this?”

GIR’s eyes adjusted like miniature telescopes. “Oh! That’s the man who lived in our basement! And also wrestled Master in the flowers! Soooo romantic.”

“What are you…” Dib smacked his palm against his forehead. “Skidge! Skoodge? Whatever. You’re saying that’s him? Just… drifting in space?!”

“Yup!”

Dib’s hand hovered nervously in front of his mouth. “He has to be dead, right? He can’t survive out there?”

GIR shrugged. “I‘unno. But he’s wavin’. HI, BASEMENT MAN!”

Dib covered his ears. “We have to pick him up then, don’t we? What am I saying, of course we do. We can’t just let him die. But… you can’t hurt him, OK?”

GIR clasped his hand over his non-existent heart. “Whaaat? Who’s gonna hurt him?”

“I don’t know, I just thought you might be mad at him for…” GIR stared vacantly at Dib as the human paused. “I guess that’s not important anymore, huh? OK. Hang tight, GIR. We’re gonna scoop him up.”

Since Dib had started traveling with Zim, he’d gotten pretty good at piloting the Voot. He liked to brag about his skills to get a rise out of Zim, who regularly gloated about his years of training on Irk. On some level, Dib wanted Zim to notice how good he was getting, though he doubted Zim would ever praise him for it.

Dib shook thoughts of Zim from his head and focused on positioning the Voot in Skidge’s path. The Irken was moving faster than he’d estimated, so Dib paced the Voot with him before slowing it down enough to ensure Skidge didn’t splatter upon impact with the airlock (or so he hoped).

“Wish me luck,” Dib said as he opened the airlock’s exterior hatch.

GIR flashed him a thumbs-up.

The Irken thumped into the airlock. After a quick check of the cameras to make sure he hadn’t bounced back into the void, Dib resealed the hatch and began to pressurize the hold. Through the camera feed, he watched as Skidge dragged himself upright, shivering and unsteady but at least un-splattered.

Satisfied with the first stage of the rescue (and only a little disappointed that Zim wasn’t there to witness it), Dib angled the Voot back toward the station and let it drift. If Smikka wondered where he’d gone, maybe leaving the Voot in plain sight would keep the “Ringmaster” from getting too suspicious. He could come up with excuses later, so long as it didn’t look like he’d run away.

Dib started toward the airlock but paused in front of a small case of weapons. He was a little surprised they hadn’t been confiscated. If Smikka hadn’t removed the small collection of lasers and contraptions Zim stored in the cabin, then he couldn’t be _too_ skeptical of Dib’s intentions. Plus, if the weapons were all still intact, then the data Dib had stolen from the station was probably untouched as well. Explaining _that_ would be tricky, to say the least.

Dib pulled a small energy pistol from the case and proceeded to the back hatch. It seemed like Skidge was an ally of sorts, but Dib preferred to err on the side of caution. He pressed a button on the hatch’s comms panel and addressed the Irken inside.

“Are you OK in there?”

“I’ll b-b-be alright,” stammered a disarming voice through the speaker.

GIR clattered off the control panel. “I bet he’s cold!” he said, then darted through the port to the galley.

“What’s your name?” Dib asked through the door.

“Skoodge,” said the Irken.

“And your rank?” Irkens always stated their rank first. Dib found it odd that Skidge – no, _Skoodge_ hadn’t.

“I d-don’t really have one,” said Skoodge. “Hey, could I c-come inside? It’s a little chilly out here.”

Dib’s fingers flexed on the gun. “Yes, I’ll let you in, but if you try to pull anything, know that I’m armed and have a SIR unit onboard for defense.”

“I understand,” Skoodge said.

For some reason, Dib was inclined to believe him. He sounded so sincere and calm, despite having nearly turned into an Irken ice sculpture in the vacuum of space. Dib cautiously opened the door and backed across the cabin, pistol at the ready.

Skoodge shuffled inside, his arms wrapped around himself, antennae glittering with a lacing of frost. If he noticed Dib’s weapon, he didn’t seem worried about it. He simply sighed and closed his eyes as the door shut behind him.

“This is so much better,” Skoodge said, still shivering.

“Do you… want a blanket?” Dib offered. It seemed the polite thing to do after saving someone from an icy death, even if he still wasn’t sure he could trust that someone.

Skoodge’s antennae perked up and he looked at Dib with hopeful eyes. “Do you have one? That would be great.”

Dib crab-stepped toward his sleeping chamber, unwilling to turn his back on Skoodge. He ducked into the small room, pulled a blanket off his bed, and returned to the cabin with his pistol raised. Skoodge hadn’t moved and instead seemed to be admiring the walls and ceiling.

“Did this used to be a Voot Cruiser? It’s huge,” Skoodge said.

“Uh… Yes. We expanded it quite a bit,” said Dib. He wouldn’t have called it “huge,” but it was several times larger than its original form. He handed Skoodge the blanket and tapped on the panel that controlled the fold-away couch in the cabin floor. Skoodge watched in awe as the couch unfurled and took shape, and Dib felt a little proud of his furniture modification. And Zim had called it superfluous…

“Thank you,” Skoodge said, smiling as he climbed onto the couch and nested into the blanket. He snuggled down until only his face was visible, eyes squinting in contentment.

“I got hot chocolate!” GIR announced, reappearing in the galley doorway. He ran into the room, carrying a tray with three mugs over his head.

Dib jumped aside, having been scalded one too many times by GIR’s attempts at hospitality. There were a few foods that Dib had learned to trust from GIR, hot chocolate being one of them. The preparation was straightforward and it was usually immediately clear if something was off, so Dib generally took his chances with it. He carefully lifted a mug from the tray.

GIR shoved the tray into Skoodge’s face, and the Irken graciously accepted a mug as well. “Thanks, GIR.”

Dib nearly spat out his sip of hot chocolate. He swallowed quickly. “You know GIR?”

“Oh. Yeah, I do,” Skoodge said, watching as GIR devoured the third mug of cocoa, followed by the tray.

Normally, Dib would admonish GIR for that behavior, but he was too distracted.

“I guess that makes you Zim’s human?” Skoodge said.

“Yes,” Dib said a little too reflexively. Warmth rushed to his cheeks. “I mean, I’m Dib. His friend. So, you two really know each other? I couldn’t be sure what was happening during the fight…”

“You saw that?” Skoodge said, frowning. “I’m sorry about knocking Zim out. I really didn’t want to, but I had to get to the Champion Board. Not that it mattered in the end.”

Dib sat next to him on the couch. “What do you mean? What happened?”

Skoodge rolled his mug between his hands. “Well… I had this bug in my PAK. It was supposed to detach and get into the Champion Board and freeze all the systems connected to it. But the Ringleader, Smikka, he had a device that detected non-PAK tech. He found the bug before I could get plugged in, and he launched me into space because of it.”

“That’s horrible,” Dib said. The words felt hollow; they couldn’t match the gravity of the situation.

Skoodge shrugged. “It’s not the first time I’ve been launched into space. Irkens can survive a lot, you know.”

“I know.” Dib swirled the cocoa in his mug and remembered something. “Hey, I saw what Zim did to your shoulder. I have some bandages if you need them.”

“What, the scratch?” Skoodge asked. He pulled more of his arm free of the blanket, revealing a tattered pink sleeve. He nudged some of the fabric aside to inspect the smooth, green skin of his upper arm. “Looks like it’s taken care of. Thank you, though.”

Dib adjusted his glasses, concerned he wasn’t seeing this right. Zim healed fast, but not _this_ fast. Or, he didn’t think so. Maybe the wounds hadn’t been as deep as Dib had thought. He’d been pretty far away, after all.

“How do you know Zim?” Dib asked as Skoodge tucked himself back into the blanket.

“We trained together as invaders. Then, after I conquered my assigned planet, I spent some time living with Zim.”

Dib tried to picture this stout, unassuming Irken dominating a planet. He didn’t look like a conqueror, but then again, he’d soundly thrashed Zim in the arena. “Wait a minute… Like, you lived together on Irk or something?”

“No, on Earth, in his base,” Skoodge said.

“In the basement!” GIR added.

“That’s impossible. I would have noticed if another Irken was on Earth,” Dib said.

Skoodge chuckled and sipped his hot chocolate. “You know, Zim said almost the same thing.”

“He didn’t notice you?” Dib thought for a moment. “Actually, that checks out. But why were you there?”

Skoodge drained his mug and stared thoughtfully at the grainy trails of chocolate left in the bottom. “I was the first to take over my assigned planet in Operation Impending Doom II, you know.”

Dib didn’t know what to say, or whether he was supposed to say anything at all, so he remained silent.

“There was supposed to be a celebration. I was supposed to fire the first cannon for the Organic Sweep of Blorch, the planet I’d conquered. But the Tallests told me they’d changed that tradition at the last moment, and they shot _me_ out of the cannon instead. And I let it happen. Because what could I do?”

What could he do? This person who had dominated an entire planet? Skoodge clearly wasn’t powerless. Surely he could have done something. Dib held his tongue and listened.

“All my life, my PAK told me to be loyal, and so I was, even when I knew…” Skoodge fumbled for the right word, one antenna twitching forward as if to aid in the search. “I don’t know what I knew. But I knew it felt bad when the Tallests changed my original assignment to a planet full of Slaughtering Rat People. I felt it again when they fired me out of that cannon. And again when I trained with Zim on Hobo 13. In some capacity, I recognized they were trying to kill me. I just didn’t know why, or what to do about it.”

An awkward pause followed, which Dib felt compelled to fill, and yet had no words for. GIR, for better or worse, picked up his slack by standing in front of Skoodge and reaching for his mug.

“You gonna finish that?” the robot asked.

“You go ahead,” Skoodge said, handing him the empty mug.

Dib raised a hand to interrupt, but GIR had already eaten it. Great. If they all got out of this alive, they’d have to find someplace to buy replacement tableware.

“Anyway,” said Skoodge as GIR ran off to play in Dib’s chamber, “I figured it was best to stay out of the Tallests’ way for a while. I’d spent enough time around them to know they weren’t interested in Zim’s planet, so I figured I’d hide out there for a while and help Zim on his mission.”

“You helped Zim when he was trying to conquer Earth?” Dib asked.

Skoodge nodded. “I tried to, at least. I didn’t really want to conquer another planet, and you humans were kinda cute and oblivious. It didn’t seem right. But Zim was working so hard, and I was lonely after the Tallests destroyed my SIR, BEKI… I just wanted to be helpful again, and Zim needed help.”

Dib snorted. “I’m sure that went over well.”

“It didn’t, actually,” Skoodge said sadly, completely missing the sarcasm. “I assisted him with a couple plans, but they all got out of hand and I decided maybe I’d just lie low somewhere else. I disguised myself and moved to another Earthen city, but then Zim teleported the planet, and after all that settled down, I realized the Massive was missing, and assumed it had to do with the Florpus Hole. I went back into space to investigate and realized pretty quickly that the Empire was falling apart. I felt like I had to do something.”

Skoodge shuffled out of the blanket and began to fold it into a neat square.

“For a long time, I had it confused,” Skoodge said as he passed the folded blanket back to Dib. “I thought my duty was to the Empire. But seeing all the chaos the Tallests left behind, I realized that my true loyalty belongs to other Irkens.”

Dib accepted the blanket and placed it in his lap. “So that’s how you got here? Trying to help other Irkens?”

“Yes. I’ve been traveling to former Irken colonies and evacuating invaders. Many of them have refused to give up their planets, though. Others are more willing to listen to my theory about loyalty. I get them out and help them settle into other planets. It’s not much, but it’s the best I can do.”

Dib wished Zim could hear this. A fellow Irken, sympathetic to the plights of others, rehabilitating them.

“I heard about Smikka Smikka Smoodoo’s Screw You Battle Zoo and knew I had to shut it down,” Skoodge continued. “I know what we did to the Screwhead race’s home world, and so I can’t really blame Ringleader Smikka for building this place, but I also think Irkens deserve a chance to be better, you know?”

Dib nearly jumped off the couch in excitement. “Yes! Exactly!”

Skoodge smiled broadly. “It’s true, then? About Zim also trying to free the prisoners?”

“Yes! Well, I’d say it’s more of a _me_ trying to free the prisoners scenario while Zim complains about it, but yes,” Dib said.

“Great! Maybe I can help you!” Skoodge said, clasping his hands together in anticipation. “Now that Zim has infiltrated the station, what’s our next step?”

“Oh, um…” Dib nervously brushed his cowlick back. “We’ve gone a little off course. Smikka thinks I captured Zim and brought him here, but that wasn’t our original plan. I intended to swipe the station’s schematics and use them to put together a better plan, so I have all of this data, but I don’t think it’s what we’re looking for.”

Skoodge’s antennae perked. “Can I see the data?”

Dib nodded and led Skoodge to the control panel in the Voot’s cockpit. He unlocked the data and stepped aside for Skoodge to review it. The Irken tapped a claw against his lips as he scrolled through the jumble of numbers and symbols, sometimes murmuring things under his breath and nodding.

After a few minutes, Dib interrupted. “Are you finding anything?”

“It sure isn’t the station’s schematics,” Skoodge said. “Some of these sequences, though… They’re familiar, but I can’t place them.”

“Can you point them out?”

Dib selected the groups of numbers that Skoodge pointed at. “We have a program that might be able to help with decryption. I’ll have it look at these number groups and we’ll see if anything pops out.”

Dib ran the program and a new series of numbers flooded the screen. Skoodge read the lines closely, then shook his head. Dib reran it a few times, losing more and more hope with each repetition, until Skoodge suddenly straightened up and held his hands out to stop it.

“Wait! I think I know what these are!” Skoodge said, tapping his claw on the screen. “PAK ID numbers!”

A lightbulb flashed on in Dib’s brain. “They must belong to the prisoners! Maybe this is a log of some kind. Hold on a sec.”

Dib took the pattern that had decoded the ID numbers and applied it to the rest of the data. After some tweaking, he finally produced a legible record. Irken names flowed down the screen, each paired with a set of stats and details about their identities.

“Do you recognize any of these?” Dib asked.

Skoodge nodded. “I’ve fought a few of them. But this isn’t the format for straight PAK data. All of this information must have been observed and manually entered by Smikka and his drones. I don’t believe my PAK was ever plugged into anything directly, probably for the same reason Smikka scanned me before I could go on the Champion Board.”

“Right, security,” Dib said, scrolling down until he found Skoodge’s name, still entered as “Skidge.” His height and weight were listed, along with a few paragraphs about his fighting style. Dib skimmed through the notes.

_Desirable traits: Fast-moving, strategic, compliant…_

_Undesirable traits: Small, unlikely to utilize deadly force, somewhat unpredictable: requires further study in randomized encounters…_

Dib frowned. “Can you tell me more about how the PAK IDs work? If they have your ID number, shouldn’t they have your real name, too?”

“The Control Brains have been cut off from the intergalactic web for at least three Irken years. Even if Smikka knew how to connect to the PAK data held by them, I doubt he’d be able to right now,” Skoodge said. “Like I said: all of this information appears to be hand-entered. It’s probably safest for Smikka that way. He probably doesn’t care about our real identities in the first place.”

“Yeah, it looks like he’s more interested in your combat abilities,” Dib said. “He must use this information to design entertaining matches.”

“I think you’re right,” Skoodge said.

It was weird to hear an Irken agree with Dib, and he almost lost his train of thought because of it. “With all this data, he can probably control who gets to the Champion Board, too. He can skew fights by pairing Irkens based on their vulnerabilities.”

“Do you think he wanted me to get to the board, then?” Skoodge asked.

Dib fidgeted with his glasses. “I don’t know. Based on these notes, he may have just been tossing a random obstacle at you in order to understand your fighting style better. Hard to get more random than throwing a completely new contender into the ring with you. He might not have known who would win.”

“So it was by chance alone that I reached the board,” Skoodge extrapolated. He furrowed his brow. “My one shot, ruined. I should have gone with a virus, but that would have meant infecting my PAK, and I just couldn’t bring myself to risk it. I doubt Smikka’s device would have been able to detect something built into the PAK’s code like that.”

An ember of hope flared to life in Dib’s mind. He thought back to his conversation with Zim after their close call on Sirus Minor.

_“I believe my PAK’s data did something to the Control Brains during my trial, possibly even damaged them.”_

Dib turned to Skoodge so quickly that the Irken jumped a little in surprise. “What about PAK corruption?”

“Huh?”

Dib talked with his hands, unable to contain the energy building up inside. “You know, defective PAK data. Do you think Smikka would be able to detect that? It’s kind of like a virus, isn’t it?”

Skoodge looked uncomfortable, his ruby eyes darting, searching for an exit as Dib loomed over him. “I mean, kind of? But I don’t understand how this-” His eyes suddenly widened. “Oh.”

Dib took a step back, his face heating up again. Shit. He hadn’t meant to out Zim like that. Zim had nearly died in the name of concealing his defective nature; he’d probably cut Dib’s tongue out for exposing him to a fellow Irken behind his back.

Skoodge’s antennae drooped. “I wondered about that, actually… But to answer your question, I suppose it depends on the extent of the corruption.”

Dib had already said too much, but the situation was dire. He decided to jump in with both feet and deal with the consequences later. “How about, ‘fuck up the Control Brains during an Existence Evaluation’ levels of corruption?”

Skoodge’s brow ridges lifted in astonishment. “Yeah, I bet that would do it,” he said with an incredulous half-smile. “But we’re talking about Zim, right? Zim’s not old enough for an Existence Evaluation.”

Dib clenched his jaw. “Apparently, your leaders saw fit to bump his up.”

Skoodge shook his head. “I wish I could be surprised by that...”

Dib grabbed Skoodge’s shoulders, trying to bolster the energy in the room again. “But this is good news! All we have to do is help Zim win three matches so he can connect to the Champion Board. If his Existence Evaluation is any indication, then we stand a good chance of frying the entire station. You already planned for that, right?”

Skoodge glanced apprehensively at Dib’s hands on his shoulder but allowed them to stay. “My bug would have frozen specific systems and helped me hijack a transport ship. Zim’s corruption will be much more chaotic. We’d have to modify the plan…”

“I’m sure we can come up with something,” Dib said.

Skoodge’s face twisted with worry. “I guess… But getting Zim to the board is going to be difficult if Smikka decides he doesn’t want him there.”

Dib released Skoodge and planted his hands on his hips in a rush of confidence. “Smikka may have stacked the deck, but we’re counting the cards.”

Skoodge blinked. “Huh?”

Dib pointed to the screen full of prisoner data. “We’ll know the weaknesses of everyone Zim fights. I can feed him information through our concealed communicators.”

“Oh! So he _was_ talking to someone else back there,” Skoodge said.

“Of course, this is assuming that Zim’s communicator wasn’t ruined by the shock he got at the end of your fight,” Dib said. “And that Zim _himself_ wasn’t destroyed by it…”

“Zim will be OK,” Skoodge said. “The prod stops PAKs from trying to escape. It doesn’t hurt the host.”

“At least there’s that,” Dib said.

“What do we do now?”

Dib spread his hands on the control panel and stared down at the Battle Zoo. “We wait for Zim to wake up, we hope I can explain my absence to Smikka, and we come up with one hell of a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple things: 
> 
> 1\. I am always wearing a "Skoodge deserved better" shirt. Like, at all times. I am an adult with an office job, a mortgage, and presence within my community. Beneath my classy business blazer, I'm wearing that shirt, and you can't take it from me.  
> 2\. I'm going to be on a boat for a week, throwing off my publishing schedule. This is an extra-long installment to make up for the fact that I probably won't have the ability to post the next chapter next week. 
> 
> Bonus thing: I know the world is scary right now and it feels like the odds are against you, but there are good things on this hell-planet. Keep fighting, darlings.
> 
> Up next: A little more Beep, and a little more Zim.


	4. Chapter 4

At first, Zim assumed he was in the Voot. He sometimes napped on the couch (when he was certain Dib wouldn’t catch him doing so), and waking up was never a pleasant experience. Zim hated the moment of delirium that came with the return to consciousness. Brief as those seconds were, he couldn’t stand the lack of control, the confusion.

His eyes opened slowly, expecting to be met with the mellow glow of the Voot’s control panel. Instead, he stared at a blank, brightly-lit white wall. Zim blearily reached out toward it with one hand, hoping to gain some kind of insight from the contact. The wall was cold and smooth and completely foreign. This was not the Voot.

Zim shot upright and immediately regretted the decision. He clasped his hands to his aching head and squeezed his eyes shut to stop the room from spinning.

“Are you alright?”

Despite the throbbing in his skull, Zim forced his eyes open again and jumped to his feet, standing on top of the low bench he’d been sleeping on and scanning for the person who’d just spoken.

The room was small, perhaps five by six feet, made slightly less claustrophobic by a tall ceiling that exuded pure, white light. The only piece of furniture was the sleeping bench built into one wall. Opposite that wall was a bluish, translucent barrier. Zim instantly recognized it as an energy shield.

Behind it stood Smikka’s Irken servant, Beep.

“Z…Zoom is fine,” Zim said, fighting his vocal tic. “Where am I?”

“You’re in a Battle Zoo cell, awaiting your next match,” Beep said.

Zim looked her up and down. Her posture was prim and regimented, hinting at past military service. Perhaps, like most of the Battle Zoo prisoners, she’d once been an invader. She was tall enough, however, that she might have qualified as a military-class noble. Someone of her stature could have had her pick of planets to conquer pre-Assigning. And yet she spoke so meekly, and her loosely-curled antennae angled down in perpetual submission. Her spine was straight and her shoulders were drawn back, but she kept her chin low. Her body language contradicted itself… Zim didn’t know how to read her.

“Zim? You’re awake!”

Something fluttered in Zim’s squeedilyspooch at the sound of Dib’s voice in his antenna. Zim wanted to answer him right away, but Beep’s honey-colored eyes were fixed on him.

“You say that I’m in a cell, waiting for another fight?” Zim repeated.

“Who’s there? Is it Smikka?” Dib asked.

Beep tilted her head slightly. “Yes, that’s what I said. Are you having trouble hearing or understanding me?”

“No, I can hear you just fine,” Zim said through gritted teeth. “Your name is Beep, right? Smikka’s little pet?”

“Beep is there? You can’t tell her anything, Zim. She’s going to try to mine you for information.”

At the same time as Dib spoke, Beep did as well. Zim couldn’t focus on her words over Dib’s.

“Actually, I am having trouble hearing you,” Zim said. “Maybe if you removed that energy shield between us…”

Beep giggled, and despite her somewhat dull eyes, she sounded genuine. “You are funny, Zoom. Perhaps your hearing is still impaired from your previous fight. You heal quite slowly. You aren’t sick, are you?”

Zim’s antennae flattened back aggressively. “I am perfectly healthy.”

Beep hummed.

“Why are you here?” Zim asked.

“I am curious about you,” Beep said. She tucked her plain dress over her knees and knelt in from of the energy barrier. “Please come sit with me. Your leg is still repairing itself.”

Zim glanced down at the laser wound on his thigh. It had sealed itself, but the skin there was pale and tender. Another hour or so and it would be as good as new. Pfft, “you heal quite slowly…” Zim healed at a completely normal rate. Beep probably was one of those desk-jockey nobles after all. Maybe she’d had military training, but she probably hadn’t seen real combat, and so hadn’t sustained the kinds of injuries invaders such as Zim regularly endured. She was out of her depth on the topic.

Dib’s voice cut in again. “Zim, I have a lot to catch you up on, but I’ll have to do it later. I’m going to turn off the comms for a few minutes. If you’re OK with that, click your tongue once. If not, click twice.”

Beep’s head tilted the other way, a soft frown forming on her lips. “Zoom?”

Zim clicked once.

“OK. I’ll talk to you soon. Remember: Beep can’t be trusted. Not as long as she’s under Smikka’s thumb.”

A small burst of static, then silence. A tremble ran up Zim’s spine.

“Please sit,” Beep implored, her brows drawn worriedly. “You’ll have to fight again soon. You need to recover your strength.”

Zim growled, but then stepped gingerly down from the bench. With great trepidation, he approached the energy wall, but didn’t sit immediately. Instead, he stared down at Beep, letting her know that he was a dignified former invader, unintimidated by her height.

Beep merely stared back at him, betraying no emotion other than mild concern.

Zim sat in front of her, keeping his back rigid, trying to hold his head as close to Beep’s level as possible. “So, you are curious about Zoom, then?”

Beep smiled a little and nodded. “Yes. I have never heard of Earth. It must be quite a distance from here. Can you tell me about it?”

Zim narrowed his eyes. “It’s far away. That’s all you need to know.”

Beep was undeterred. “And are all of its inhabitants like Captain Dib?”

“Uh… more or less?”

Beep leaned forward, her face inches from the shield. “But Captain Dib is _special_ , isn’t he?”

An electric energy thrummed from deep in Zim’s core, travelling out into his extremities, leaving his fingertips tingling. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s OK! I understand,” Beep said sweetly. “I feel the same way about Ringmaster Smikka.”

“I do not feel _anything_ toward the Dib-stink,” Zim snarled.

“But you are so well-trained. He does not restrain you, even as he pilots your vessel and commands your SIR,” Beep said.

“I behave in order to survive,” Zim hissed.

This was miserable. He couldn’t wait until he and Dib finished this stupid prison-break stunt. Then Beep would know the truth about Zim, that he wasn’t some human’s lapdog.

Beep placed her hand against the energy shield, rippling and distorting it a little but not breaking through. “It is just the two of us talking now. You can be honest.”

“ _Honestly_ , my duty is to the Irken Empire,” Zim stated. “One day, Dib will slip up and I’ll overpower him. Then I’ll return to the Empire. I am simply awaiting the opportunity to end his life.”

Beep’s mouth flattened into an emotionless line. “You’re lying.”

“You DARE accuse ZI-” He stopped himself, switched perspective pronouns, “ME, ZOOM, of LYING?”

“If what you described were true, your PAK coding would have required you to self-destruct upon capture,” Beep said, her tone neutral. “The survival of a single invader is not more important to the Empire than the preservation of Irken technology.”

“What are you saying?” Zim asked, teeth bared at Beep’s placid face.

“I am saying that you should have destroyed yourself and your technology in order to keep it out of alien hands,” Beep said. “The fact that you are alive and subservient to a member of an alien species can only mean one of two things: one, that you have defied your training and your PAK coding, making you a defective.”

“You lie!” Zim shouted, jabbing an accusatory claw at Beep.

“Or two,” Beep continued, unflinching, “that you care for Captain Dib and have willingly chosen to serve him. He has become your Tallest, and you are his loyal attendant.”

Zim was on his feet in a flash, wobbling briefly on his sore leg before straightening to his full height, claws up as though to tear through the barrier. “Have you come here only to slander me? Do you think your lies can hurt me? You know nothing!”

“I know that Ringmaster Smikka is my Tallest,” Beep said calmly. “It is my honor and joy to serve him.”

“Do I _look_ like I’m joyfully serving the human pig-smelly??” Zim demanded. “Perhaps it is _you_ who is the defective. You say that you understand, but you are as ignorant as a PAKless smeet.”

“I understand this,” Beep said, and placed her palm to the side of her head. She closed her eyes and leaned into her hand.

Zim’s own hands relaxed a little as he watched her in confusion. “Eh? What are you doing?”

“ _I won’t let you down,_ ” Beep said.

Blood rushed to Zim’s cheeks as he realized what moment Beep was recreating. He scampered back a few feet, trying to hide the shame coloring his face.

Beep’s eyes opened sleepily and she lowered her hand. “It is nothing to be embarrassed by. Our Tallests have been missing for years. Our PAKs compel us to find a replacement.”

“That’s not how it works,” Zim said, backing up another step.

She ignored him. “It is good that you found a superior creature to follow and entrust with your wellbeing.”

“WHAT?! The Dib? SUPERIOR???” Zim’s face felt like it was on fire. “I entrust him with NOTHING! And if anything, HE follows ME! The only reason we’re even in this horrible place is because-”

“OK Zim, I’m back. Can you hear me?”

Dib’s voice stopped the words in Zim’s throat. He froze with his fist in the air, mouth hanging open.

“Because what?” Beep asked. Her eyes were cold and flat.

“Because…” Zim broke eye contact, unable to meet Beep’s unsettling gaze. He had to say something, _anything_ other than what he’d nearly admitted to her. That he’d taken Dib into space willingly, and that he’d allowed Dib to take the lead on this mission. That it was a “mission” in the first place.

“…We’re only here because… Zoom is… being punished.”

“Explain,” Beep said.

Dib was silent.

“I…” Zim cast around for a convincing story. “I tried to take my ship back, but I was caught.”

He felt Beep’s eyes on him, though he couldn’t bring himself to look at her.

“He brought you here to teach you a lesson in obedience,” Beep said after a few seconds.

“…Yes.”

In the corner of Zim’s eye, he saw Beep nod thoughtfully.

More silence. The air felt thin.

“Ringmaster Smikka will be looking for me,” Beep said suddenly. She stood up and adjusted her dress. “Good luck in your next match, Zoom. Thank you for chatting with me for a while. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

With that, Beep turned on her heel and strolled off down the hall outside of Zim’s cell.

“Hey, we can hear you breathing… Is everything OK? Click once for yes, two for-”

“Everything is fine,” Zim said as he sank onto the bench. “She’s gone. I’m alone.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. There don’t appear to be any cameras and I’m keeping my voice low. I am alone.”

“No, I mean, are you sure everything is fine?” Dib asked.

“Of course,” Zim said, his voice sounding softer out loud than he’d expected. A thought sparked in his mind. “Wait… You said ‘we’?”

“I have the comms connected to the Voot’s speakers and mic. GIR is here. Also Skoodge.”

“HI!” GIR shouted.

“Hello!” said the voice of the Irken who’d just wrecked Zim’s shit in front of a packed stadium.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘ALSO SKOODGE’???” Zim shrieked.

“Shhhh!!! Zim! What if someone hears you?” Dib asked.

Zim scooted into the corner and pulled at his antennae until they hurt. The pain centered him for a few seconds, brought him back into reality. He tried again.

“How is Skoodge with you?” he whispered, his jaw tight.

Zim listened in silence as Dib and Skoodge described the events that had transpired while Zim was unconscious. Dib told him about GIR’s little freak-out in Smikka’s box and their subsequent retreat from the station. Skoodge talked about his new career in rehabilitating ex-invaders and about the bug he’d been carrying in his PAK that was supposed to bring down the Battle Zoo but had been detected, resulting in his ejection into space. Dib explained that the data he’d gathered contained prisoner profiles, which could be used to assist Zim in his matches. GIR apologized for eating a mug or two or three. Zim nodded along, even though the people he was talking to couldn’t see him.

“So, we have a rough plan at this point,” Dib said. “Skoodge has access to a larger ship not too far from here. I’m going to return to the station and tell Smikka that I’ve instructed my SIR unit to wait for me in orbit around a nearby planet. I’ve already come clean with him about GIR's episode, and it seems like I’m still on his good side. Once I’m dropped back at the Battle Zoo, GIR and Skoodge will take the Voot to retrieve Skoodge’s ship. If we time it right, they’ll be back by the end of the current rotation. OK?”

Zim grunted his understanding. Dib continued.

“Great. While they’re gone, you and I are going to get you to the Champion Board. I’ve downloaded the data to my TransDibber so I’ll be able to feed you information on your opponents in real time. You’ll know how they like to attack, what their weaknesses are, any details that could give you the upper hand in the ring.”

“Uh-huh,” Zim said.

The comm went silent for a few seconds.

“Are you sure you’re OK over there, Zim?” Dib asked. “You seem… quiet.”

Zim huffed. “You _shushed_ me, remember?”

“Yeah, but I mean… I don’t know. What happened with Beep while my communicator was off?”

Zim pushed himself further back, his PAK pressing uncomfortably into the corner. “Nothing. Just mining for information. Like you said.”

“…You didn’t give her anything, right?”

“Of course not. I’m not _stupid_ ,” Zim said. “She wanted to know about Earth. I said it was far away. She questioned me about how we got here. I said you were punishing me for an attempted mutiny.”

“Right, I heard that part…”

“And that’s all there was,” Zim said. “Now, about your plan. What happens when I get to the Champion Board? You said Skoodge’s bug was discovered before he could be plugged in. Do we have some kind of alternative that Smikka won’t be able to detect?”

“Um, about that…”

Zim strained to hear another voice saying something to Dib. Dib cleared his throat but didn’t speak.

“Hello?” Zim said sharply. “Do you plan on including me in this conversation?”

“Sorry. Yes. We have an alternative,” Dib said.

“Which would be…?”

“Remember when you told me about what happened to the Control Brains during your trial?”

Zim’s spooch lurched. He saw the cables darting down at him, clamping onto his PAK. Thousands of Irken eyes glowing in the darkness. Then, out of nowhere: stone walls, red sand, Dib’s ragged voice apologizing into his antenna as the human restrained him, jammed a hand into his PAK.

Agony. Terror. Visions of Tallests Red and Purple looming over him, like cruel skool-children preparing to crush an ant hill.

 _I can fix it. I can fix it_.

“Zim?” Skoodge said.

Gears clicked into place in Zim's mind. “You told Skoodge?”

“I had to, Zim,” Dib said. “We think the corruption in your PAK won’t be noticed by a scanning device since it’s so, um…” Dib grasped for the right term. “… _Innate_ to it."

“Innate,” Zim breathed.

“I didn’t catch that?”

“Nothing,” said Zim. He imagined he could hear Dib doing that nervous lip-chewing, glasses-adjusting thing he always did when he was uncomfortable with a conversation. Good. He _should_ be uncomfortable.

“It’s our only chance. I wouldn’t have told Skoodge about it if I thought there was another way,” Dib said.

Zim drew his knees close to himself. “The plan is that I win three fights, go on the Champion Board, and… drive it crazy?”

“More or less, yeah. We don’t know what your PAK will do to the station, so we’ll want to be sure Skoodge is nearby with his ship at the right time, and that we have some kind of system for evacuating spectators if we have to. Like, if we screw up the internal atmosphere regulator or something,” Dib said.

Zim grunted again.

“… Are you mad at me, Zim?” Dib asked.

Zim wanted to be angry. He craved the rush of adrenaline that came from screaming at Dib. But the ember of rage that always burned in him was a cold, inert lump in his gut now. Zim didn’t know if he was mad. He didn’t know if he was anything.

“I’m sorry, OK? I shouldn’t have told Skoodge without your permission. It just sort of spilled out,” Dib said. “And besides, Skoodge doesn’t care if your PAK is a little screwy.”

“Yeah,” Skoodge chimed in. “Now that the Tallests are gone, what does it matter that you’re defective?”

Zim shrank even further into the corner. Where was his anger? He wanted to be outraged! Instead, he just felt tired. Numb.

“What Skoodge meant to say is that you’re not in danger from the Tallests anymore. You’re safe. I’m going to keep you safe, OK?”

Beep’s voice echoed in Zim’s memory. _“It is good that you found a superior creature to follow and entrust with your wellbeing.”_

“I need to prepare for the next match,” Zim blurted. “I’m turning off my communicator for a moment. To focus.”

“Zim, wait! Let’s talk about-"

But he’d already swiped his finger down the length of the communicator tape, cutting Dib off.

The cell was bright and silent. Zim couldn’t even detect the sound of the station's air filtration, or the hum of its engines. All he could hear were his own shaky breaths.

This was a mistake. All of it. Like a beetle in a predatory pitcher plant, Zim had gone too far and had trapped himself in a death pit. And why? What did he think he would get from all this? From taking a human into space? From listening to his idealistic, smeet-brained ideas? From trusting him with the heaviest truth of his soul?

Dib had always wanted to vivisect him. Maybe he’d finally succeeded, in a fashion. Here Zim was, vulnerable and imprisoned, relying on his old enemy to save him, pretending to submit to Dib's authority. Perhaps this is what Dib had wanted all along, to cut Zim open and render him helpless. Pretty soon he’d become like Beep: vacant-eyed, subservient, and calling an alien her Tallest.

Zim searched himself again for the anger that should have been there. Instead, he found an aching hollowness. He’d given away more of himself than he could afford, but there was nothing he could do about that now. He was truly at Dib’s mercy, his secrets laid bare, his flaws and identity weaponized.

What had he expected? What had he wanted?

Zim lacked the energy to chase after those shameful thoughts. For now, he clutched his knees closer to himself, lowered his head, and pretended not to feel his own tears as they dampened his torn clothes.

Nothing to do but wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm absolutely out of my skull and edited/completed a chapter on my phone in the middle of the ocean because I was afraid I'd forget a key piece of information if I didn't type it out ASAP. So, if you're following along in real time, surprise...? XOXO 
> 
> (How bad am I fixated on finishing this fic? I have the rough draft of the next chapter saved on my phone, but I'll control myself until I have access to a real computer.)


	5. Chapter 5

“Are you sure I can’t change your mind?”

“Thank you, Smikka, but I’m really just… _so_ embarrassed about what happened with my SIR. I’d rather pay my cred and watch from the stands.”

Smikka sighed. “Truly, these things happen. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. This isn’t about what I said before Zoom's match, is it? I didn’t mean to discredit your home planet. I had to fire up the crowd, you understand?”

“Totally,” Dib said through a tight smile. “Listen, I appreciate your invitation, and I’m grateful that you’ve been so understanding, but I’m perfectly happy watching with the rest of the spectators.”

“But you’ve come from so far away! And against such odds!”

“It’s really not that big a deal,” Dib said.

The conversation had already gone on longer than Dib would have liked, but he was determined to keep things cordial with Smikka, even as he created some distance between them. Smikka was too interested in Dib and Zim. Dib told himself that it was because of the unusual circumstance of their origin, but he worried about giving too much away. The closer an eye the Ringmaster kept on them, the greater the risk of failure.

Smikka shook his head, incredulous. “Well, I won’t force you to use my box. You’re welcome to enjoy the show from the stands. But should you need me, know that you have my direct comm-line in your communicator.”

“Understood. Thank you,” Dib said.

Smikka started away, but then turned back as a thought occurred. “Say, your SIR isn’t going to suddenly show back up and crash through the dome of my arena, is he?”

“No. He’ll stay well out of emergency protocol range until I call him back. Like I said over the comms.”

Smikka pursed his lips and nodded. “I know. A SIR's emergency protocol can be quite difficult to contain. But even in the event he did smash through my roof, the dome will self seal. Of course, I’d like to avoid the distress and expense of such a scenario.”

“Of course,” Dib said.

Smikka looked at Dib pointedly. “And you’re sure you don’t want to join me? I feel we share a certain camaraderie, what with our affection for our Irkens. It would be nice to spend time with a like-minded individual.”

“Maybe later,” Dib said with a polite dip of his head.

At long last, Smikka shrugged a final time and left Dib at the wall of ticket booths. Dib watched him leave, noting how Beep appeared at his side out of nowhere, falling into step beside him as they merged into the throng of spectators looking for their seats.

Once they were sufficiently distant, Dib stepped into a corner and whispered to himself. “Zim, are you there?”

Nothing. Just as it had been for the past hour.

Zim was angry. This was some kind of punishment for Dib accidentally spilling his secrets to Skoodge, Dib was sure of it. Just a temper tantrum. And sure, maybe it was wrong of Dib to tell Skoodge about all of that, but it really had been an accident. Plus, Skoodge had a point: now that the Empire was crumbling, did the term “defective" even mean anything?

Zim was more than his PAK. A few corrupted lines of code couldn’t dictate his personality, his “Zimness.” As much as Zim had insisted that Irkens and their PAKs were one and the same, Dib couldn’t wrap his mind around it. It stank of Empire propaganda, meant to squelch individuality. It _had_ to be propaganda. Because if it wasn’t…

Dib didn’t want to revisit his argument with Zim about all that. It unsettled him, and he couldn’t afford to be distracted now. Satisfied that no one was listening in, Dib spoke discreetly into his TransDibber.

“GIR, do you read me?”

“I missed you!” GIR exclaimed through the TransDibber.

“Did you pick up Skoodge?”

“Got ‘im!”

“Yeah, I’m here!” said Skoodge.

“Great,” Dib said, immensely relieved. In order to avoid detection, Skoodge had used Zim's mag-boots to stick to the outside of the station while GIR dropped Dib off in the docking bay. Dib worried that GIR wouldn’t remember the very important step of picking Skoodge back up, but it sounded like he’d succeeded.

“Anything from Zim?” Skoodge asked.

Dib turned away from a curious, four-eyed slug-alien, tucking a little further into the shadow of a shuttered ticket booth. “Nothing yet. I’m going to get a rotation-pass so I can stay in the stands and avoid Smikka. Are you guys clear on your part of the plan?”

“I think so,” Skoodge said as GIR made airplane noises in the background.

Dib wanted to trust Skoodge. All things considered, he seemed like a reliable guy. More than that, he and Zim knew each other, were maybe even friends. But Skoodge was also a successful invader. He’d devastated a planet… He could have all kinds of tricks up his sleeves, and GIR wasn’t exactly equipped to stop him if he went rogue.

However, as with so many decisions Dib had made within the past few hours, he knew he didn’t really have a choice.

“OK. Safe travels? I guess?” Dib grimaced at his own awkwardness.

“I’ll keep you informed,” Skoodge said. “Good luck!”

Dib closed the connection and joined the ticket queue, praying to whatever deity might listen that he hadn’t made a huge mistake.

*****

Dib managed to secure a seat for himself in the stands beneath Smikka's box in the hopes that it was a blind spot for him. Not that it really mattered. Dib had sat through three short matches at this point, and Smikka had announced two of them over the loudspeaker. Dib couldn’t figure out where he was announcing from, but wherever it was, it had to have an all-encompassing view of the arena.

The matches themselves were brief but brutal. The arena shifted into new landscapes for each pair of fighters, though not dramatically so far. The last fight took place on a plain expanse of stone, but it had been the most thrilling of the three Dib caught. He felt guilty for mentally describing it that way, but it was true. The Irkens were well-matched, parrying each other with ease and pulling supernaturally fast stunts on their PAK legs. All it took was one misstep on a small seam in the stone to trip one of them up enough for the other to lance them through the gut.

Dib clapped with the other spectators just enough not to stick out, but he hated himself for doing so. That Irken would be fine, he knew that. Still, Dib couldn’t tear his eyes from the pink blood smeared across the stone below, even as the floor morphed back into triangular tiles.

Around him, a few clusters of aliens stood and filed up the aisle toward the nearest snack booth on the tier above. Most gave Dib a wide berth, which suited him just fine. The fewer people saw him talking to himself, the better.

“Zim. Please. If you can hear me, I need you to answer,” Dib whispered. He didn’t even expect a reply at this point.

The loudspeaker crackled. “Up next, crowd favorite Rek the Wrecker!”

Applause swelled across the stadium as an arena door opened and a sturdy, long-antennaed Irken strode onto the field. She greeted the crowd with a confident grin and a wink of one bright red eye. Then she lifted both hands in the air and turned around expectantly.

A chant of “Wreck-er! Wreck-er!” spread through the crowd, and Rek drank it in. She cupped a hand behind her sharply curled antenna, as if she were straining to hear her fans. The volume increased into a thunderous roar.

“There she is, folks. She’s made it to the board once… Is she on her way to a second rotation as a Champion? Is her string of bad luck finally coming to an end?”

Pfft, “bad luck.” Smikka had probably noted Rek's popularity and stacked fights against her to keep her in the zoo longer. But Rek didn’t seem to mind. She looked like a professional wrestler down in the arena, hamming it up for the crowd. Was she actually enjoying this?

“And here comes her opponent, entering the ring for the second time. Will this be his first win in the Battle Zoo arena? Welcome back, Zoom!”

Dib jumped into action. “Zim? Is your communicator on?”

He listened for an answer as he pulled up prisoner data on his TransDibber. He kept his wrist low, trying to hide the data that scrolled by behind the backs of the empty seats ahead of him.

_Rek. Former invader, mission interrupted by the loss of the Tallests. Additional training in medicine. Excellent live candidate._

Candidate for what?

In the arena, Zim stepped through his door. This time, there was no showboating. He simply stood there at attention, hands behind his back, eyes forward.

“For fuck's sake, turn your communicator on,” Dib muttered as he skimmed more of Rek’s profile.

“It’s on,” Zim said.

Dib bit his tongue to stop from swearing. He could bicker with Zim later, once they were through this match.

“Good,” Dib said. “How are you feeling? How’s your leg? Or, leg and PAK leg, I guess…”

“Both fully recovered.”

“Cool,” said Dib, trying not to sound sarcastic.

The stadium floor rippled as the transformation sequence began. Fern-like plants unfurled from dark red soil, along with thin, snaking trees and tall juts of pale stone, which reminded Dib of the pillars of a ruined jungle temple.

“The Coastal Forest of Algraya!” Smikka announced. “Are you ready, combatants?”

Rek hooted enthusiastically. Zim said nothing. Dib furiously studied the notes on Rek's battle style.

“Fight!”

“Get somewhere high!” Dib instructed.

Zim’s PAK legs launched him into the boughs of a nearby tree as Rek deployed a pair of cylindrical devices from the sides of her PAK. The devices flared like jet engines on either side of her body, firing her forward to where Zim had been standing, instants too late to catch him.

“What are those things?!” Zim shouted.

Rek snarled up at him from the base of the tree, and Zim leaped again, landing on the tallest stone pillar.

“Custom PAK weapons,” Dib said, speed-reading their details. “Jet-powered hammers. You have to stay above them!”

“Can’t hide from me there, Zoom!” Rek taunted loudly. One of her propellers rotated 180° before they both powered up again. Suddenly, Rek charged forward, spinning like a top from the force of her dual engines. She slammed into the base of the pillar with an ear-splitting crack.

The shock knocked Zim off balance, and he tumbled from his position, barely managing a tuck-and-roll on his landing. He crouched behind a large fan of yellow foliage as Rek laughed uproariously. A spidery break sprawled across the stone's base from where one of her hammers had struck.

“Dib??” Zim’s voice cracked.

“She’s going to keep doing that spinny thing,” Dib said. “The good news is that she can’t adjust her course upward while she spins. You just have to jump up and out of the way when she charges.”

A PAK leg popped up from behind the bush Zim was hiding in and fired a bolt of energy at Rek. Rek turned in time to see it and jockeyed to the side a little too slowly. The blast grazed her forearm. She stared at her bloodied limb in surprise for a second before cackling again.

“Nice shot!” she called, and aimed her next spin at Zim’s sniping position.

Zim fired a few more times, but somehow, Rek managed to dodge mid-spin.

“Up! You have to go up!” Dib said.

Right before Rek reached him, Zim sprang into the air. His metal legs skittered through the treetops as Rek curved her trajectory to pursue. Her hammers smashed through tree after tree, felling them one after another, until she tired and skidded to a halt. Her head wobbled dizzily, but she quickly shook herself out.

“Look at her go! The Wrecker just cleared half of our forest! Where can Zoom hide now?” Smikka commentated.

Dib's mind wandered back to middle skool nights on the couch with Gaz, playing video games with her, swallowing his pride as she coached him through boss fights.

_“He’s going to throw three fireballs, then he’s going to tire out and lean close enough to the stage for you to hit him.”_

_“But he’s close enough to hit now!”_

_“Yeah, but if you try it, he’s going to obliterate you with his pound attack. You have to wait until he’s tired.”_

Dib rarely had the patience for those multi-stage fights. He didn’t like all the dodging and timing of attacks. All too often, he’d push his luck and get his character killed while Gaz smirked with that “I told you so” look in her eyes.

On the battlefield, Zim barraged Rek with another round of lasers. Rek’s thrusters helped her dodge, which clearly fueled Zim's fury. Through the communicator, Dib listened as Zim chittered angrily to himself.

“I have an idea. She can’t keep spinning forever. Dodge her until she’s worn down,” Dib said. “Don’t waste your energy on attacks until she’s too dizzy to dodge.”

Rek spun toward Zim before he could acknowledge Dib's instructions. Zim jumped again, though he had no nearby trees to land in. As soon as he was down, Rek swerved back at him, and back into the air he went. This dance continued for a while, the crowd gasping and cheering for each evasion.

“This is taking too long!” Zim said as Rek paused between attacks. “Zim is too fast for this so-called Wrecker.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Dib said. “Just a little longer…”

But Zim had already drawn up two PAK legs to fire upon Rek. He discharged a series of blasts, but Rek had composed herself enough to duck beneath them and restart her spin.

Zim didn’t have time to jump. A hammer nailed him in the chest and sent him flying into the same pillar Rek had hit before. As he slammed against the rock, Dib heard the air gasp from the equivalent of Zim’s lungs. Zim’s body slid down the stone and landed heavily on one side. Dib leaned out of his seat, holding his breath. Zim abruptly curled inward and vomited into the dirt.

“Oooooh, that’s a rough hit from the Wrecker!” Smikka said. “But Zoom isn’t going down without a fight!”

“Shit! Are you OK?” Dib hissed through his teeth, ducking lower to avoid inquisitive glances from down his mostly vacant row of seats.

Zim spit blood. “…’m’OK…”

“She’s coming back at you!”

Zim lifted his head as Rek spun at him. His mechanical legs hurled him clumsily out of range as his arms clutched at his ribs. Rek's hammers pounded the rock once more, spreading and deepening the cracks that had formed there. Dib swore the pillar wobbled.

“Did you see that?” Dib asked.

Zim's posture loosened a little, probably responding to pain inhibitors circulated by his PAK. Even from a distance, Dib could make out a faint smile on Zim’s lips. “It moved…”

Dib smiled as well. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Zim laughed in response, then addressed Rek. “What’s wrong, Wrecker? Can’t keep up with me?”

Rek clenched her fists. “You can’t dodge me forever. I heard your ribs break… One more hit and I’ll puncture your squeedilyspooch with your own bones. I’m gonna enjoy watching you choke on your own blood.”

“Yeesh,” Dib said.

“Too bad you’re too slow for the amazing Zoom, then,” Zim said, pretending to inspect his claws.

“We'll see about that.” Rek blasted forward, but Zim casually vaulted over her. She whipped around, but Zim had already danced out of her reach, still picking at his claw as if he couldn’t be bothered to devote his full attention to the fight.

“Stay focused,” Dib reminded him.

“I know what I’m doing, Dib-filth.”

“I know you do.”

Zim’s antennae lifted and his smile broadened.

“You’re only making this worse for yourself,” Rek called from where she’d accidentally tangled herself in toppled trees and vines.

“And you’re only boring me,” Zim retorted. “I thought this was supposed to be a _challenge._ ”

Rek roared in frustration and spun at him. Zim nimbly evaded, baiting her back toward the broken jut of stone. Her hammers clipped it, gashing away a wedge in a spray of dust and grit.

“Yes! Perfect!” Dib cheered. The crowd around him had picked up on the energy of the fight, and his voice blended in with their excited shouts.

Zim laughed and bounced away again, leading Rek in wild circles. Each repetition of charge and evasion left Rek a little less steady on her feet, slightly slower on her restarts. Even the whir of her engines had weakened as she burned through her energy reserves. She was a one trick pony, that was for sure, but apparently that strategy had worked for her so far. After all, she only needed two successful strikes to incapacitate her enemies.

“You’re embarrassing yourself, Rek the Reject,” Zim teased. Dib detected a subtle wheeze in his voice.

“Hang in there, Zim. You’ve got her on the ropes.”

Rek leaned with her hands on her knees. “You’re a coward. A pitiful excuse for a warrior.”

Zim adjusted his PAK legs, lifting one of them to use as a laser. Dib said nothing. Rek looked exhausted… This could be the opportunity they’d been waiting for.

Zim fired as Rek’s engines rumbled and twirled her toward him. The bolt struck one of the hammers, but Rek plowed ahead, even as oily black smoke spiraled behind her.

“What a shot from Zoom!” Smikka cried.

Rek howled with rage and redoubled her efforts, the soft glow of her engines firing up to a searing blue blaze. She was a fiery tornado, bearing down on Zim much faster than before.

Zim scampered up and to the side, aligning himself with the cracked pillar, but not quickly enough for his metal legs to avoid Rek's desperate swing. His PAK legs snapped from the impact, dropping him to the ground. Dib winced at the wet sound of the wind being knocked from Zim’s body.

Rek’s momentum carried her past Zim and she careened into the rock with an explosion of flame and shattered PAK limbs. The stadium gasped collectively as Rek, singed and bleeding, staggered upright against the battered base of the pillar, grinning with pink-stained teeth as smoke and ash coiled around her.

“Get up! Get up! Hurry!” Dib urged, eyes locked on Zim’s disconcertingly still form.

“Nowhere to run, Zoom,” Rek gurgled as she limped forward, her ragged voice barely carrying to the stands.

Zim rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself up, his mangled PAK legs twitching, still searching for purchase in the dirt. Then, to Dib’s surprise, Zim lifted one hand and slowly waved at Rek.

Everyone in the Battle Zoo saw it coming except for Rek. The stone pillar tilted back precariously and the audience hushed to see where it would fall. After several painfully long seconds, the pillar rocked forward and slammed down on Rek, who never even turned her head to see it as it splatted her.

The boom of the fallen stone echoed through the stadium, followed by a wave of boisterous cheers and applause. Dib leaped to his feet and whooped, overcome with relief and joy and pride and-

Concern.

Dib gripped the back of the seats in front of him. “Zim?! Zim! Can you hear me?”

As the dust settled around the rock slab, Zim heaved himself on top of it. He struck a triumphant pose, both fists high in the air, face split into a delirious smile.

“Victory for Zoom!” he shouted, then doubled over to cough.

“Yes!!! You fucking crushed it!” Dib gushed.

Zim straightened up, wiping his mouth. “I fucking crushed _her!_ ”

“Hell yeah you did!” Dib said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He didn’t think he’d ever heard Zim use an Earth swear.

“Oooo, folks, I don’t think there’s any coming back from a move like that one. I’m calling it: the Wrecker has been wrecked!”

More cheers rose within the stadium at Smikka's announcement. Zim clasped his hands together and shook them above his head as if he’d just been awarded a gold medal. Through the communicator, Dib could tell he was panting.

“Go easy, buddy,” he advised. “Can you breathe OK?”

“Zim is great!”

“Careful; voices carry better here than I thought from the box…”

Zim quickly scanned the crowd, shading his eyes against the lights. “You’re in the stands? Where?”

Dib hesitated, not sure if waving to Zim would catch Smikka’s eye and raise further suspicion… But Smikka already called him “affectionate” toward “his" Irken. What could it hurt?

Dib stood on his toes and waved. “Left of the Board, midway up!”

Zim honed in on him quickly, and his face lit up as he flailed his hands back at him in enthusiastic greeting.

A zing of adrenaline chased through Dib's body and a warmth spread from his chest to his face. He fought the urge to jump the seats in front of him and sprint down to the arena. He ached to be close, to be able to scoop Zim up and make sure he was alright and…

Dib frowned. He just wanted to be _near_ Zim again. It was as though a string was anchored to his sternum, binding him to Zim, drawing him forward to where he could not go but desperately longed to.

In all their months of traveling together, this was as far apart as they’d ever had to be, and Dib _hated_ it.

Zim cocked his head, his smile faltering. “Dib-smelly?”

The arena floor rippled again, and the stone disintegrated beneath Zim’s feet. He managed to land gracefully as the battlefield returned to its neutral state. A few feet away, Rek’s unconscious body sprawled facedown, still smoldering.

Smikka came back on the speakers. “There it is, everyone. Let’s give one more round of applause to Zoom, who’s just won his first fight in the Screw You Battle Zoo! That’s one step closer to the Champion Board for our speedy little Zoom!”

As the spectators clapped, whistled, and made other strange but presumably positive noises, an arena door slid open to allow a gurney-shaped droid to enter. It raced to Rek’s side and dragged her onto its sling with its long, insectoid arms before darting back into the wall with its patient.

“Let’s clear the stage for our next match!” Smikka called, and a door opened for Zim to exit through.

Dib’s heart sank. “Wait, I wanted…” The words sputtered out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Zim shrank a little, his bravado blown out from under him. “It’s… It’s OK! We can keep talking.”

“Don’t draw attention to yourself though,” said Dib.

Zim nodded curtly and proceeded toward his door. “We did it,” he said, his voice much softer than before.

“ _You_ did it,” Dib said.

He knew to some degree that he was buttering Zim up, but it was also true. Zim, with Dib's guidance, had bested a ferocious competitor who had won at least three other battles. That was nothing to sniff at.

Dib couldn’t deny that it was nice to hear the old spark return to Zim’s voice. Still, he wasn’t an idiot. He knew that not everything was settled between them.

He suspected that had to do with whatever Beep had said to Zim while Dib's communicator was off. Also, the fact that he’d spilled Zim's best-kept and barely acknowledged secret to Skoodge. Probably a combination of factors, really.

“Two more times,” Zim said, just in front of the door.

Dib swallowed. “Yeah. No problem.”

And then Zim was gone.

Dib sank into his rigid stadium seat. That fight could have gone so, so much worse. As it was, he wasn’t convinced Zim was truly OK. He’d been hit hard… How long did it take him to heal? Dib’s main point of reference was Zim’s recovery from the creekitee attack, which had taken days in the Voot Cruiser’s healing pod. The circumstances had been different, sure, but the jagged scar across Zim’s abdomen was vivid in Dib’s mind.

Dib shook his head. No, Zim’s PAK, when fully functional, could fix any injury swiftly. Zim would be fine. Plus, Dib was getting the rhythm of the prisoner profiles now. He’d be able to fill Zim in more quickly next time. And Smikka _liked_ him. If he wanted Dib to stick around, he’d shift the fights so that Zim had a fair shot at winning. Or at least, that’s what Dib would do in Smikka’s position.

Distantly, Dib registered Smikka announcing some kind of intermission. Maybe Smikka intended to track Dib down again to chat, but Dib still wanted to talk things out with Zim. Zim’s mood had obviously been lifted by his win, but it wouldn’t be long before he remembered that he was supposed to be sulking.

Dib searched the row of concession stands above him. A short walk down the row, he spied a series of strangely marked doors. He used his TransDibber to decode the symbols.

Restrooms. Each marked not by gender but by nature of waste, which Dib supposed made sense considering the diverse Battle Zoo audience.

Dib's eyes settled on a door marked “Bipedal/seated/solid and liquid waste.”

Smikka would have a hard time following Dib there. Dib started toward it, mumbling quietly to himself for Zim to hear.

“I’m going somewhere private. Let me know when you can talk.”

Zim’s tongue clicked in acknowledgement.

Lost in thought, Dib didn’t notice the honey-colored Irken eyes tracking his progress across the stadium.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back in the real world and managing my anxiety by writing, just, a whole heckuva lot. But I'm also enjoying the outdoors, trying to eat healthy snacks, and chatting with my buddies. Those things help a great deal. Make sure to take care of yourselves and your friends!


	6. Chapter 6

The euphoria of victory buoyed Zim all the way back to his cell. Not even the hurrying shoves of the Large Nostril People guards could dent his mood.

His chest ached a bit, and it was difficult to draw deep breaths, but Zim knew his PAK would repair him in no time. He’d just lie down for a while and talk to Dib. Then he’d go back into the arena and kick more asses. No problem.

The guards led him down a long, bright corridor of identical cells. Some were empty, others housed Irkens. Most sat on their benches, eyes unfocused or downcast. Just waiting. Not even acknowledging Zim as he passed.

All except one.

Zim started at the sight of Rek, who stood as close as she could to her cell’s energy barrier. Her eyes, red as human blood, latched onto him as he crossed in front of her.

Zim swallowed a wave of anxiety as he looked her up and down. She stood at an angle, one leg clearly broken but still supporting some of her weight. Dark green and purple bruises mottled her skin. Altogether, she looked suitably thrashed, and yet Zim was shocked to see her standing. He’d seen her shattered body as it was loaded on the robo-gurney… How could she have already recovered this much? If that had been Zim, he’d have been out of commission for at least an Earth day. Any broken bone, particularly a weight-bearing one, would have required setting and reinforcement in order to heal properly. Ribs were one thing, but a femur?

Maybe he’d overestimated the damage. Yes, that was more likely. Rek had only _looked_ flattened, and that break couldn’t really be that bad.

Zim stumbled back a step as Rek lunged at the energy shield between them. She banged her fists soundlessly against it, snarling and spitting like a rabid dog. She shouted something, but the barrier muffled her and Zim couldn’t make out her words. He was pretty sure he didn’t want to hear whatever she’d said.

One of the guards hooked Zim forward again and they continued down the hall to his cell. Zim waited quietly for the energy shield to seal him in and for the guards to depart. As soon as they did, he stretched out on his side on the bench, breath hitching as the action pulled at his ribcage.

Gingerly, he lifted the edge of his torn shirt to inspect the damage. Dark bruises marked where Rek’s hammer had knocked him, but he noted that the edges were already fading. He smiled, satisfied with the progress.

“OK, I think I’m safe to talk,” Dib said through the communicator. Zim reached up to make sure the thin sticker was still secure on his antenna. “How about you?”

“I’m safely back in my cell,” Zim said. “Where are you?”

“A bathroom. Or at least, I think it’s a bathroom.” A pause, and then softer: “I really _hope_ this is a bathroom, and that that’s some kind of toilet…”

Zim stuck out his tongue in disgust. “Blech, stop. Zim does not wish to hear about your filthy human habits.”

“Not everyone has a PAK processing our waste and solving all our problems, you know.”

“It doesn’t solve _all_ my problems,” Zim muttered.

Dib continued on. “Speaking of PAKs…”

Zim groaned and rolled over to face the wall.

“Listen… I really didn’t mean to upset you. It’s not your fault that your PAK is… the way that it is,” Dib said.

Zim crossed his arms. Dib didn’t get it. Dib would _never_ get it, and yet Zim was still compelled to argue. “This isn’t about fault. But it doesn’t matter. We’re doing your plan, aren’t we? Using my PAK to ruin the station?”

“I guess, but-"

“Then we don’t need to keep talking about it.”

“Zim, I’m just trying to be honest with you. I know it bothers you that I told Skoodge, but I’ve apologized for that.”

Zim growled. “Apology accepted. Whatever. Happy?”

Dib made a few frustrated noises. “No, Zim. You’re still upset with me and I want to figure this out. So let’s figure it out!”

“You don’t know what I’m feeling. I’m not feeling anything. I don’t care. Discussion over.”

Zim's conversation with Beep replayed in his head. He squeezed his eyes shut as if he could block the memory out that way. He didn’t want to revisit that discomfort, those terrible ideas that wormed deep into his brain.

He needed to focus on the fights. Deal with this stupid Battle Zoo fiasco and then impress upon Dib the nature of their partnership. _Zim_ was the captain. Zim was in charge. This whole situation was still under Zim’s control. He’d been the one to permit this – admittedly foolish – expedition. He’d made the strategic decision to go undercover as Dib’s captive. He wasn’t bowing to Dib’s influence. Whatever he felt toward the Dib-beast was irrelevant.

“Come on. You have to work with me here. I _know_ you, Zim. I know when something’s wrong.”

Zim hovered a finger over his communicator slip.

“You’re right. There is a ton of stuff I don’t understand about you and the PAKs and Irk and… I don’t know. I don’t even know the extent of the stuff I don’t know. I need your help.”

Zim pulled his hand back, listening.

“We need to be on the same page with each other if we’re going to get through this. So, please… help me understand.”

Zim sighed. “I’m sure it won’t do any good. But go on. What do you want to understand?”

“OK, so, you know that I’m not trying to insult you when I talk about your PAK, right?” Dib asked. When Zim didn’t reply, he went on. “You said before that you and your PAK are the same, but that doesn’t make sense to me. I get that it’s sort of a back-up brain for you, but I’ve seen you take it off to work on it, and you’re still you. Like, your personality is still there. Which I know because you’ve yelled at me multiple times while tinkering with it, which is very, uh… _Zim_ of you.”

Zim rolled his eyes. “Yes yes, _I_ am Zim. The PAK is Zim. Same thing.”

“But… _no,_ it’s two things. There’s you, and then there’s this piece of technology.”

“I don’t know why I’m even trying to explain this to you. You obviously lack the faculties to comprehend the intricacies of an Irken PAK,” Zim said. “Why is this so important to you, anyway?”

“Because I need you to understand that I’m not using you, OK?” Dib said, the edges of his words sharpened by irritation. “Your PAK is corrupted, but that doesn’t mean you, _Zim,_ are broken. You aren’t your PAK. We’re in this together, and we’re using your PAK to do something good. Am I making any sense?”

“As usual, you make no sense at all.”

“Ugh! Zim, come _on!_ ” Dib moaned. “You don’t think of yourself as broken, right? Of course you don’t! You have an ego the size of a planet!”

Zim resisted a twinge of nausea. “What about _you,_ Dib-stink? Do you think of yourself as broken?”

“What do you mean?”

“The chemicals I make for you. Serotonin reuptake inhibitors. Artificial hormones. Are you broken because you need them? Are you _you_ or are you the chemicals?” Zim snapped.

Silence. He’d struck a nerve. Zim forced away the feeling of guilt, replaced it with smug satisfaction.

Eventually, Dib spoke again. “That’s not the same, and you know it.”

“You told me you wanted to know if our friendship was ‘real',” Zim said. “So what’s the real Dib? With or without your medications?”

“Fuck you, Zim,” Dib said, voice low. “I’m still me. I’m always me, and you fucking know it. They help me. There’s nothing wrong with that. Why are you saying these things? You’ve never said anything about my meds before.”

“I’m trying to hammer understanding into your thick, primitive monkey brain. If you are you with or without additional chemicals, then I am Zim and Zim's PAK. Comprehensively. The two cannot be separated in any way. One _is_ the other.”

A pause as Dib digested the information. Zim hated how long it took the human to process things sometimes. Perhaps this was good news. Maybe he was finally getting it and would drop the topic.

“I’m still not sure I get the comparison,” Dib said. “…But… you don’t think of yourself as… as defective, right? Just your PAK?”

Suddenly, Zim regretted trying so hard to make Dib understand. “I’ve already told you. Zim is defective. How many times must you make me repeat it?”

“Your _PAK_ is broken. Not _you._ ”

Dib sounded so sure. So hopeful. Zim almost felt sorry for him.

“And it’s not even broken, really,” Dib went on, a little brighter. “It’s just not up to Irk's bullshit code or whatever, which doesn’t even matter anymore. It still does what it’s supposed to do, yeah? The important stuff?”

Zim’s hand moved to his aching ribs. He thought of Rek standing in her cell, full of vigor and vitriol minutes after being crushed.

He thought of Beep's cold, empty eyes.

“Yes,” Zim said abruptly.

“Good,” Dib said, and Zim heard the smile in his voice. He wished he could see it. “You aren’t broken or ‘defective' or any of the things your Tallests may have called you. You’re no more your PAK than I am my medicine. My meds help me. Your PAK helps you. But neither of those things are _us._ Not really. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Zim’s spirit sank. So he hadn’t gotten through to Dib after all. As he opened his mouth to try again, he heard the buzz of his cell's energy barrier shutting down. He sat up and spun around on the bench, cringing at the pinch in his ribcage. The pain wasn’t as sharp as before, but it was still undeniably there.

The guards beckoned him forward.

“Wait,” Zim said, before he could stop himself. “I’m not ready…”

“Zim?” Dib’s voice tilted higher in alarm. “What’s happening?”

One of the guards gestured with her energy pistol for Zim to move along.

“I’m going back out,” Zim said, not caring if the guards questioned why he was talking to himself.

“What? You were _just_ in a match! It hasn’t even been an hour! That’s ridiculous!”

Zim straightened his shoulders and followed the guards into the hall.

“Maybe it’s not for another fight. Maybe it’s something else,” Dib said.

Zim replied with an uncertain hum so as not to push his luck with the armed guards marching him out of the cellblock.

“There must have been a mistake. I’ll talk to Smikka,” Dib said.

Zim hummed again, glad he had an excuse not to speak. He doubted he’d sound as composed as he’d like.

“I’ll figure this out. Worst case scenario is that you have to go back into the arena, but I have all the data we need to deal with whatever prisoner they pit you against. Talk to me when you can, OK?”

Zim clicked his tongue once as the cellblock door slammed behind him.

*****

“Invader” Zim. She should have known.

Beep retracted her listening device from the bathroom vent back into her PAK and shut off the comm-link to her SIR. As she followed the hidden passageway back to her quarters, she cursed her own blindness.

She’d recognized Skoodge instantly. The Tallests had tried to hide his success from Irk, but Beep’s memory wasn’t so short that she’d forget his face. It surprised her that he’d survived a cannon launch, but she supposed it would take more than being shot into the surface of a planet to take down the conqueror of the Slaughtering Rat People.

She was confident he wouldn’t survive the same thing twice, though. He’d been launched on a trajectory to exactly nowhere. He was doomed to a long, slow death in deep space.

Beep smiled at the thought of Skoodge wasting away in a little sphere of ice as his PAK desperately tried to save him.

He’d caught the Battle Zoo off guard with his bug. Had he not given them a fake name, they probably wouldn’t have had the foresight to scan him for a foreign device. The whole thing had smelled fishy, but Skoodge would have been a decent addition to the collection. It had seemed worth the risk of letting him reach the Board.

Zim, on the other hand…

Beep raked a claw down the dark passageway.

She’d have acted sooner, but it had all been so unbelievable. According to all available statistics, Zim was supposed to be dead. And she should know: she’d been trying to track him down for years, hoping to bring him to justice for what he did to the Control Brains. What she and her team of engineers had spent so much time undoing. But try as she might, Beep could never find enough data on Zim’s status to make any real progress.

Not that it mattered in the end. The Tallests had vanished. The Resisty seized Irk's moment of vulnerability. Beep had escaped and switched her focus from finding the mysterious location of Zim’s off-record exile to researching the inexplicable disappearance of the Massive.

Until a much better idea had occurred to Beep. Another couple of Irken years on the Battle Zoo, and she’d have everything she needed for the next phase of her master plan. No more chasing after worthless defectives. No more fretting over former Tallests.

Beep was destined for bigger, better things, and if Zim and his alien cohort thought they could repeat Zim's Control Brain disaster on the Battle Zoo…

Beep growled to herself. The probability of Zim winding up here was so incredibly small, and his behavior had been so meek when he’d first arrived. Beep reassured herself that no Irken would have recognized Zim like that, even with his abysmal fake identity.

It was right of her to have investigated further, Beep decided. Because if “Zoom" had been an actual invader, those traits of compliance and obedience would have been useful to her project.

Besides, she’d enjoyed picking at him. He’d managed to keep himself just barely in check… Beep had to give him credit for sticking to his story and not giving up his plan.

And then there was the human. For an unknown species, he seemed quite clever. He’d hacked the station, after all. She hadn’t wanted to believe it at first, but after observing the “Dib" during Zim’s first fight and listening in on his side of the restroom conversation, she could no longer deny it.

Perhaps he could have been useful as well. He could infiltrate alien tech, and apparently had access to an invisible communication device.

Unfortunate that he couldn’t be trusted. He looked easy enough to exterminate.

As for Zim, keeping his diseased PAK away from the board would be simple enough, but Beep could do better than that. At long last, she could exact her revenge, and in front of thousands of paying customers. Casualties happened in the Battle Zoo once in a while, after all. And perhaps most patrons considered themselves too civilized to admit it, but Beep saw how the energy surged in the stadium when a prisoner was broken beyond repair.

With the right incentive, those kinds of incidents could be guaranteed.

Beep slipped through an unmarked door and into her sparsely furnished hideaway. Her dutiful SIR knew what to do. Just a few minutes from now, she’d be rid Zim forever.

In a way, she was doing one final service to the decaying Irken Empire. A farewell to the last sour memory of old Irk. Soon, a new and better order would rise.

Soon, the universe would tremble before Almighty Tallest Beep.


	7. Chapter 7

Zim was an asshole. No shocker there. Still, what he’d said about Dib’s medication stung. It echoed the cruel voice in the back of his mind that catalogued every shortcoming, every misstep or miscalculation that Dib ever made. He’d learned to subdue that voice, banish it to the corner of his brain, but even with medication and mindfulness, it still managed to shout from the shadows at him for every perceived failure.

_A stronger person wouldn’t need chemicals just to get out of bed. Maybe that’s the “real” Dib. Just some kid who can’t handle reality and so ran away from home to still be sad and worthless, but now in space. What an upgrade._

Dib avoided his reflection in the small restroom mirror. The voice was a liar. He knew that, but knowing wasn’t enough to stave off those invading thoughts. He reminded himself of his own words: that his meds _helped_ him. They made it easier to be himself. It had taken him years to finally accept that.

Dib’s eyes flickered toward the mirror, noticed his cowlick was crooked. He fingered it back into line, then stared at his face. He used to fear that he’d look more and more like his father as he aged and was relieved to see that instead, he looked more like himself. The version of Dib he’d always wanted, from his signature spectacles to his sharpening jawline. His fingertips traced the fading scar along his cheek.

Maybe Zim was still figuring out his relationship with his own brain. Even so, it didn’t give him the right to be a bratty little fuck to Dib about it. Just one more topic to add to the towering list of things he and Zim would need to discuss once they were far away from this shitshow.

Right. He could reflect on all the drama later. For now, he needed to contact Smikka to figure out what the hell was happening.

As Dib stepped out of the bathroom (flashing an apologetic smile to the small queue of fellow “bipedal/sitting/solid and liquid waste” patrons), his TransDibber buzzed with a call from the Voot Cruiser. He was about to answer it when he noticed a flicker of orange in the corner of his eye.

One of those weird, tentacled guards was walking swiftly toward him down the row of restroom doors.

_Nothing to worry about,_ Dib thought as he angled away from the guard, heading back to his seat. The stadium was large. Having so many people in one place probably necessitated a certain number of guards roaming the arena, though Dib couldn’t recall seeing one moving with such intent before.

With one eye on the guard, Dib answered his communicator and kept it close to his mouth as he spoke. “Hey, I can’t really talk right now. We’ve got a little situation I’m trying to sort out. Everything OK on your end?”

Skoodge’s voice came in a bit fuzzy, betraying the poor range of Dib’s communicator (another project for after this catastrophe was resolved). “Yes, everything’s OK, but I have an update.”

Dib slowed his pace as another guard appeared ahead of him, near the stairs to his row. Behind him, the first guard was closing the gap between them. The hair on the back of Dib’s neck lifted.

As nonchalantly as he could, Dib changed course and headed for the throng of customers lingering around a large concession stand. “Skoodge, I’ll have to call you back.”

“Oh! Uh, yeah, OK, but our timing has changed and I’d really like to-”

Dib closed the communicator. Maybe he was being paranoid. Then again, everyone he’d ever known called him paranoid when he’d tried to expose Zim’s alien identity, and look at him now.

Stuck on a violence-themed, capitalistic alien theme park, attempting to evade a pair of armed guards by hiding behind a row of condiment dispensers.

“Skoodge called?” Zim asked quietly in his ear.

“I think I’m being followed. Hold on a sec,” Dib whispered, peeking past a bottle of something purple and faintly glowing.

A third guard had arrived, one tentacle hovering over the energy weapon on his (her? Their?) hip. The guard’s head turned, taking in the crowd. Searching.

In the distance, applause rolled from the stands. Smikka’s voice boomed through the loudspeakers.

“You aren’t going to want to miss this one, folks! Coming down from his second rotation on the Champion Board, it’s…”

Dib’s eyes darted from the guards to his TransDibber, preparing to type but also unable to leave his pursuers unaccounted for.

“You know what? Who cares what his name is. He’s big, he’s beefy, and he’s out for blood,” Smikka continued, his voice dropping into an ominous growl that drove the audience wild.

“Fuck,” Dib said under his breath. Without a name, how was he supposed to find the prisoner’s profile? Assuming, of course, that this Irken was meant to fight Zim, which may not have even been the case. Perhaps Dib was jumping to conclusions.

“As we bring our first fighter down from the Board, let’s take a look at his opponent: Zoom! He’s fresh from wrecking the Wrecker herself… Let’s see how far his fortune takes him.”

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck.” Dib glanced around the corner of the condiment table to see one of the guards getting a little too curious about his corner of the concession stand.

Dib waited for the guard to look away before slinking through an open door into the concession booth’s kitchen. A cook with long, feathered arms scraped at some kind of griddle. Dib crept along the other side of the appliance, conscious of the various tubes, cookware, and half-open cabinets that impeded his path.

“He’s the big guy. The ‘absolute unit,’” Zim said, voice tremulous. “Who is he? What am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know. Hold on.”

Over the booth’s counter, someone spoke loudly. “Oh, so that thing on his head wasn’t an antenna? Huh. I think I saw him by the shlip-dispenser.”

Dib crawled as quickly as he could, accidentally rattling a stack of pans as he hurried by. The cook made a questioning noise, but Dib managed to escape the booth and sprint back into the main walkway while the guards were distracted by the condiments.

“I’m running out of time here!” Zim said. “The floor’s already changing!”

“Now here’s a stage we don’t see every rotation,” Smikka announced. “Welcome to the Glooshmuk Mines of Boodie Nen!”

Zim exclaimed in surprise, and though Dib couldn’t quite see the arena from his position, he felt the stadium floor rumble. He mumbled halfhearted apologies to the aliens he pushed aside in order to reach the stairs to another block of stands.

From there, Dib discovered that the battlefield had become a sea of vibrant green sludge on top of which flat, gray slabs of what looked like pumice stone floated. Zim stood on one such slab, his hands out to the sides for balance, his antennae working independently of each other, desperate to collect whatever information they could.

On another island, an exceptionally muscular Irken with dark purple eyes waited in a crouch, ready to spring at the call of “fight.” Dib didn’t even know Irkens could be that stacked… His anatomy looked similar to a human bodybuilder’s. Dib barely made out the shape of the Irken’s PAK, dwarfed by his bulky delts. He was at least twice Zim’s height, and surely several times his weight.

“Dib???” Zim squealed, nearly slipping off his platform.

Dib couldn’t take much more of hearing his name spoken like that, high and fearful. “I don’t know his name. I don’t know how to look him up.”

Zim cupped his hands on either side of his mouth and shouted to the other Irken. “HEY! What’s your name?”

It seemed like a ridiculous move, but it was better than nothing, Dib supposed. Unfortunately, the mysterious Irken merely growled and flexed his long claws in response.

A commotion started among the people behind Dib.

“Shit, the guards,” Dib said to himself, hurrying down the steps. Maybe if he just kept moving, he’d stay ahead of them. They hadn’t drawn their weapons or even tried to talk to him yet… That was good. He could play that game a while longer.

“Guards?” Zim asked.

The loudspeaker blared. “FIGHT!”

Heavy footsteps followed Dib down the stairs, so he quickened his pace, darting across a mostly empty row and trying to keep himself low. No name for the other Irken, but maybe he could still find his profile if he searched for a word Smikka might use to describe him. Purple eyes were fairly common… Not as prominent as variations of red eyes, but probably too regular to narrow his search much. Muscular? It was a promising start.

Dib checked over his shoulder to see two guards swiveling their heads, their face tentacles fluttering in some kind of communication. He ducked down behind a seat and filtered the data in his TransDibber.

Overheard, Smikka kept him appraised of the battle. “Whoops, looks like PAK legs aren’t much help on this terrain! Our combatants must mind their footing… The Battle Zoo’s patented Matter-Molder has recreated the texture of the Glooshmuk, though not its toxicity. Even so, be careful! Get caught in that, and you’ll surely sink to your goopy doom.”

Zim yelped, but it sounded more alarmed than pained. Laser fire rang out from the arena, but Dib couldn’t chance lifting his head up to watch.

Dib clenched his fist in a tiny moment of triumph as he narrowed his list of potential Irkens down to nine between his “purple” and “muscular” criteria.

“I think I’m getting somewhere,” Dib updated Zim as he started scrolling.

An orange tentacle flopped on Dib’s shoulder, nearly spooking him out of his skin. He cried out and scrambled away from its reach, eliciting a round of gasps from the nearby spectators. The guard – much faster on their trunk-like legs than Dib had expected – reached for him again, swinging a tendril to catch his arm.

Dib vaulted the row of seats in front of him before he could be snagged again. Stopping wasn’t an option anymore. He had to either keep moving or find a very good hiding place.

All while keeping an eye on Zim, figuring out his opponent’s identity and weaknesses, and hoping that the guards didn’t decide to just open fire. No problem.

As Dib raced through another row, Zim sputtered and choked in his ear.

“Now, what did I just tell you about PAK legs and Glooshmuk, Zoom?” Smikka chided. “Fortunately, it looks like someone’s offering a helping hand!”

Dib slowed at the end of a row to glance down at the toxic-looking battlefield. Zim clung, half-submerged in goop, to a broad chunk of porous rock, his claws scrabbling for purchase as the bigger Irken towered over him. The burly alien reached down, grabbed Zim by the antennae, and yanked him out of the sludge by them. Zim’s shriek was cut off as his adversary arced him over his head and smashed Zim’s body back down on the platform.

The third guard had arrived, coming down on Dib’s location via the aisle Dib had intended to take back up. Rather than force his way through more rows of spectators, Dib took the same aisle down, closer to the arena, flicking through his TransDibber as he did.

“Hold on, Zim. I’m going to get you something to work with,” Dib assured him.

Distracted by the data on his wrist, Dib missed a step and tumbled forward. He rolled on his shoulder and skidded down a few more steps, scraping his palms on the metal floor to stop himself. Around him, the curious crowd had finally started showing more than cursory interest in the chase scene. Dozens of eyes watched Dib as he hauled himself up on a handrail and resumed his flight down the stairs.

Feet thundered down the steps behind him, gaining ground. Dib closed the TransDibber. He needed to make more space before he could risk looking at it.

“A narrow escape by Zoom, but there are only so many places he can run,” Smikka said.

Dib looked ahead toward the arena, where Zim had managed to get away from his opponent and onto another little island.

“Good work! Just keep out of his way!” Dib panted. He was running out of aisle. Pretty soon, he’d be at the arena wall.

“Your voice sounds… bad,” Zim observed. “What is happening? Where are- AH!”

The large Irken jumped onto the opposite side of Zim’s platform, popping him up into the air. Zim landed on his feet with a grunt, but then used the momentum of the floating stone to throw himself to another island. Two lasers lifted out of Zim’s PAK and blasted at his enemy, who crossed his arms in front of himself. Dib gaped as the lasers burned the Irken’s flesh but didn’t otherwise slow his progress. Zim’s face betrayed similar surprise.

But then Dib was at the bottom of the stands, the three guards closing in on him rapidly. His only option was to continue along the barrier in front of all the spectators, who were now split between watching the fight and watching _him._

Tearing his eyes away from the battle, Dib ran along the wall, heading toward the Champion Board and the broad, barricaded-off stage at its base. Ahead and above him, a new pair of guards had joined the chase, marching down another aisle, aiming to intercept him.

_Good luck with that, you tentacled fucks._

Dib focused all of his energy into a sprint. To his right, rows upon rows of Battle Zoo patrons stood out of their seats to better see him. To his left, over a low barrier and through a protective energy shield, Zim fled from island to island, the other Irken never more than a leap or two behind him, his own lasers tracking Zim’s movements and sniping when they could. Dib thought Zim was saying something, but he couldn’t hear him over his own pounding heart and rapid breaths.

The stage. Maybe he could get onto it, make a scene, force Smikka to make a comment. If Smikka had sent his guards to capture Dib nonviolently, then maybe he was trying to save face in front of his customers. In that case, Smikka wouldn’t be able to ignore Dib causing a commotion in front of his precious Champion Board. The match would be forced to stop. Smikka would have to explain himself to the Battle Zoo visitors. He’d been civil thus far, even if that was only for appearance-sake. Perhaps this was a way to corner Smikka.

He wouldn’t kill a Battle Zoo guest in front of a stadium of paying customers, right?

The first problem with Dib’s plan was the height of the stage. As he got closer, he realized he didn’t know the way onto the platform. Of course it would be difficult to reach… Random patrons couldn’t just wander onto it willy-nilly. Still, there had to be a way up.

Dib zipped ahead of the two new guards, thwarting their attempt to block him off. He jumped a low barricade to reach the side of the stage, casting about for stairs or a ladder to reach its surface. Nothing. Just a 10 foot black wall ahead of him, and guards hot on his tail.

Maybe in the back.

As Dib started that way, another round of lasers zinged from the arena, and Dib heard Zim cry out both in the stadium and through his communicator.

“Oof, just a moment too slow on the dodge,” Smikka said.

Dib begged his burning muscles to move faster. Maybe this would be a loss, and if Smikka were playing fair, maybe that would be OK. Maybe they still had time to win another two rounds.

Of course, Smikka _wasn’t_ playing fair, and never had been.

Dib rounded the back corner of the stage and gasped as another wall greeted him. He’d misjudged the back of the board, hadn’t realized it was tiered, narrowing by sections as it went back. He’d built up too much momentum, he couldn’t turn. He raised his hands to buffer the impact, but then…

Dib fell through the wall as easily as if it were made of mist.

Expecting resistance and finding none, Dib somersaulted forward through the darkness. He landed flat on his stomach, the wind knocked out of him. He lay there for a moment, drawing in deep, aching breaths. He could hear the rumble of the crowd outside, and Smikka’s muffled voice saying something about lasers.

All the sounds were a little softer here… Or maybe Dib had just hit his head.

Dib sat up and squinted against the darkness. A pair of dimly glowing orange lines extended along the floor in front of him. A pathway through the black. A secret passageway protected by an illusory wall that by some miracle Dib had stumbled through.

But had the guards seen him? Did they know of this hidden entryway to the Board?

Dib stood and followed the lines forward, walking this time, trying to replenish his energy. He pulled up his TransDibber and resumed scrolling.

“Zim, are you OK out there?” he whispered.

“Dib?” The voice creaked. “It’s not fair. I keep shooting, but he keeps coming.” Zim swallowed, took a few rattling gulps of air. “Zim could beat him if the rocks would stop moving. He’s nothing but a-”

Zim yelped again.

“Zim?”

“Do your job! Help Zim!”

Dib was weirdly relieved to hear anger in Zim’s tone. He scrolled faster and finally landed on a profile that matched up perfectly with the Irken in the arena.

“His name’s Chuk,” Dib said.

“Great, now I know how to address his Christmas card,” Zim snipped. “Worthless humaaaaAAAAH!”

Dib paused, listening. “You good?”

“So… good,” Zim said, a bit queasily.

Dib sped through Chuk’s description. _Tough skin, advanced physical training, strange reaction to certain stimuli on backs of knees, armpits, neck, ribs…_

Dib slowed down. What the hell was all that about? The notes continued…

_Despite resistance to most physical attacks, Chuk responds curiously to light touches. He makes odd noises, crumbles, loses all focus. A trivial matter solved by specialized armor if he is to be used as a live candidate for the vanguard._

“Oh my god,” Dib said. “He’s fucking ticklish.”

“What? How is that supposed to – whoa! – supposed to help Zim?!”

“Tickle him! You know what tickling is, right?”

“Of course I do. But if I didn’t, how might you describe - HEY, I am having a conversation here, stop that!”

A popping noise, followed by a whine.

“Focus, Zim!” Dib felt his way further down the path, unsure if he’d imagined a sound behind him. “Light touches, like with your fingertips, or maybe even your antennae, under his arms. Anywhere with thinner skin, really.”

“I will _not_ be touching my antennae to anyone’s armpits,” Zim huffed.

Dib rolled his eyes. “Fine, it was just a thought. Get close to him, tickle him, then, uh… shoot him? Drown him in the Gloosh-stuff? Whatever, just knock him out.”

“Obviously!” Zim said. “And I am already very, very close to him, no thanks to you!”

“Hey, I’ve been dealing with my own ordeal over here!” Dib defended. “Just do it, OK? It’s our best option.”

Dib heard Zim inhale to reply, but the words never came. Instead, a crackling, choking noise carried through the communicator.

Dib waited a few beats, unsure what to do. He assumed Chuk was strangling Zim, but Zim had his PAK legs to defend himself, even if they were no good on the platforms. What was he doing out there? Should Dib go back out to see? Was it worth risking it with the guards?

“Come on, Zim. You can do it,” he encouraged, backing toward the way he’d entered.

More stifled, suffocating sounds, and then a sudden, air-hungry inhale.

Faintly, Dib picked up Smikka’s voice over the speakers again. “…What’s this…?”

The baseline static of the crowd’s calls amplified.

“Zoom has him in the Glooshmuk!” Smikka said. “What is _happening_ here?”

More cheering. Zim’s heaving breaths in Dib’s ear. Below that, a muted, keening noise that Dib couldn’t identify.

“That’s… This is impossible. He’s won! Zoom has won!”

Weirdly, Smikka sounded sincerely impressed. The crowd screamed. Dib slumped against the wall and laughed, startling himself with the echo of his own mania.

“I won,” Zim said, almost too quietly for the communicator to even pick up.

“Yeah, buddy, that’s two!” Dib said, but his enthusiasm dropped before he’d finished speaking. Guards were still after him. Something was still very, very wrong. Would this victory even matter? “OK, listen for a sec. I think Smikka sent his guards after me. Play it cool out there, OK? I think I’m going to stay in hiding for as long as I can… Make it seem ‘business as usual’ and maybe we’ll be able to work with Smikka on this.”

“Wha… What do you mean? Why are guards after you?”

Dib chewed his lip. “I don’t know. I think we’re in trouble. I’m not sure what our next move is…”

Before Zim could comment, Smikka’s voice returned to the loudspeaker.

“Well, a victory that special deserves an encore, don’t you think?”

The bloodthirsty crowd howled its approval. Dib’s heart battered against his ribcage. _No._

“I have quite a deal for you, Zoom,” Smikka said. “One more win, right now, and I’ll let you and your human Tallest leave the Battle Zoo alive and intact. What do you say?”

“Don’t,” Dib said, as if it mattered.

“I’ll do it,” Zim said.

“What was that?” Smikka asked.

“I’ll do it!” Zim shouted.

Dib wanted to yell at Zim, but he knew there was no actual choice being made. This “deal” of Smikka’s wasn’t real. Whether Zim agreed or not was of no consequence. Maybe Zim knew that and was preserving his dignity. Maybe he didn’t and was just a fool.

“Excellent. Then it’s a fight to the PAK death!”

Uproarious applause. Dib’s heart had somehow migrated from his ribs to his throat, choking him. His legs – exhausted as they were – propelled him by impulse back toward the exit. Maybe he could still get on stage and cause a disruption. Was that stupid? He didn’t know, but he had to do _something._

“And here comes your opponent now. My beloved pet, my perfect servant… Please welcome Beep to the battlefield!”

“What the fu-”

Dib’s swear was interrupted by a tentacle that snaked out of the shadows and wrapped around his face. He thrashed wildly to escape, only to encounter more and more tentacles, unyielding, tightening around him. His arms were yanked behind his back, his knees buckled. He needed to breathe… _he needed air._ It was too tight. It was too much.

“Dib? Dib!”

Zim’s voice was so far away.

The arms squeezed one more time, and then Dib felt nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone once gave me this writing advice: take the worst thing that could happen to a character and just keep making it worse. Darlings, we're just getting started.
> 
> (So, I'm definitely channeling my stress into smashing through this story. Writing is a great way to redirect my rampant anxiety while I'm trapped at home, "socially isolating". Your comments have also been so kind and energizing. You've really brightened my days, and I've had some CRAZY days lately, as I'm sure you have as well! Be safe. Much love.)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things got a little bloodier than I originally plotted. I've updated the warnings to cover my butt about that. Without further ado, please enjoy the lads having a Genuinely Bad Time at the Battle Zoo.
> 
> Bonus art at the end? As a palate-cleanser?

_Business as usual._

That’s what Dib had said minutes before…

Zim trembled as he recalled the sounds of struggle, of muted, desperate grunts and the abrupt silence that followed. He could only assume the guards Dib had mentioned had caught up to him.

But why?

The logical answer was that they’d been found out, but no, that couldn’t be. They’d been so careful. Zim had kept his secrets from Beep. He’d won his fights in the arena. He’d done everything right! He was unstoppable! He had a stadium full of fans screaming his name!

Well, not his _real_ name. But the sentiment was the same.

“Dib, do not ignore me,” Zim said, teeth clenched. “Answer me. Say words.”

Still nothing. Had only seconds passed? Minutes?

_Business as usual._

Zim straightened up, ignoring the complaints of his battered body. Whatever. He didn’t need his body. His PAK hadn’t been damaged in the last fight. He had plenty of tools to work with in there. He could rely on the legs to carry him and the lasers to defend him. Easy.

Anyway. He had to focus. One more fight, and then he could go collect his human.

Yes. That’s it. The guards needed to capture Dib so that he and Zim could leave after Zim won this fight. That made sense. Dib was OK. He had to be OK.

 _Business as usual_. _Follow the rules, and everything will be fine._

The cacophony of the crowd swelled again, and Zim smiled until he realized the ovation wasn’t for him.

Beep descended from the top of the Champion Board using the long cables that extended from her PAK instead of metal legs.

Zim’s blood froze in his veins. He knew those cables. How could he not? They visited him in his brief, misguided attempts at sleep. They chased him through his memories. Control Brain cables. Which made Beep a Control Brain engineer.

Zim’s legs wobbled beneath him and he stumbled to regain his balance. When had the stadium gotten so dark? The stands were blanketed in shadow, pricked by tiny points of light and clusters of glowing eyes. The dome above him projected no false skies, only a clear view of the cold, black expanse of space.

Empty, empty, empty.

He felt dizzy, like he was floating. Zim forced his eyes to stare at the triangular floor tiles. The floor was real, and the arena itself was lit by blinding spotlights. He wasn’t drifting anywhere. He was fine. He only felt off balance because of the break in his right antenna, muddling the sounds and other vibrations to that side of him. He could compensate for that.

Beep landed gently on the battlefield, hands calmly at her sides, face a complete blank. Her four cable-limbs arced behind her, perfectly symmetrical. Her eyes glowed gold under the harsh lights.

Smikka said something, but it sounded garbled. Zim couldn’t concentrate on it. Not with Beep staring him down from mere meters away.

“Nnn…!”

Zim’s functional antenna twitched at the voice and his spooch flipped over itself. “Dib?”

*****

Dib hazily took in his new environment as his senses returned to him. A dimly-lit room with a wide window and an equally long array of screens, dials, and buttons below it. A control room of some kind. Through the window, a bright blur in a sea of darkness… His vision was too fuzzy to make out much more than that.

But he could see Smikka plainly enough.

The Screwhead’s back was to Dib as he leaned over the control panel and spoke into a microphone in its center. “There she is, everyone. Long time patrons of the Battle Zoo may have had the pleasure of seeing Beep in action before. Newcomers, brace yourselves. You’re in a for a real treat!”

Dib tried to speak, but found he was still restrained by a thorough wrapping of orange tentacles. He mumbled angrily against them, his voice muffled but not inaudible.

“Dib?” Zim said in a paper-thin voice.

Smikka turned to face his captive, his smile distorting most of his round face. “Well, that wasn’t very long at all. Good. We were hoping you’d be awake to see this. Beep wanted to kill you first, in front of Zim, but then we agreed that such a display of violence doesn’t fit the Battle Zoo brand.”

Dib stomped with his heel, trying to hit the shin of the guard holding him, but the guard didn’t so much as flinch.

“Feisty. You and Zim were well-matched,” Smikka said, then addressed the guard. “Bring him forward.”

As the guard walked him closer to the window, Dib realized that Smikka had used Zim’s real name. How long had he known? Did it even matter that he’d known?

Now that he was closer, Dib could make sense of his location. The window overlooked the bright, untransformed arena. The rest of the stadium had darkened, creating a dramatic atmosphere for the fighters. The angle of the view told Dib that this control room was placed at the top of the Champion Board. This had to be where Smikka disappeared to do his announcements. That explained the secret passageway he’d accidentally discovered. It was just Dib’s luck that he’d run directly into the hands of his enemy.

Smikka pressed a button and spoke into the mic again. “Usually, we like to transform the stage a little, but per my darling Beep’s request, I’m keeping it as is. No frills, no distractions. Just a good old-fashioned deathmatch.”

On the field, Beep stood perfectly still, her unusual, tube-like PAK legs arrayed behind her almost like a peacock’s plumage. Across the arena, Zim watched her with wide eyes. His posture was rigid and he held his chin high, but he didn’t look well. One antenna sagged uselessly to the side and his clothes – the new ones he’d picked for himself to replace his uniform – hung in bloody tatters from his frame.

Smikka observed Dib, his beady teal eyes twinkling. “I see you have _opinions._ Guard?”

The guard removed the tentacle from over Dib’s mouth. Dib immediately spat at Smikka, who merely blinked and wiped the saliva from his face. For a millisecond, his skin seemed to shiver.

“I thought these fights were supposed to be entertaining,” Dib sneered. “What’s entertaining about watching a perfectly healthy Irken fight a half-dead one?”

“Beep assures me that it will be quite a cathartic experience for the audience,” Smikka replied, adjusting a line of sliders on the panel in front of him. “Besides, your Irken is hardly helpless. He performed quite well in the arena, all things considered. Of course, I understand that you’ve been helping him. Anyway. We’ve gone a bit off-script. Chuk was supposed to destroy Zim’s PAK in exchange for his freedom. I think his failure got under Beep’s skin. She insisted on finishing the job herself.”

“Where are you?” Zim asked.

Dib ignored Smikka and focused on Zim. Smikka already knew they were communicating, so why bother hiding it now? “On top of the Champion Board.”

Zim squinted toward the board. “I don’t see you…” His words sounded so small and fragile, and his eyes searched the shadows with such despair.

Dib ground his teeth. “It’s OK. I’m here. We can do this.”

“Ugh, are all humans this exhaustingly optimistic? Or are you just trying to comfort your pet? Giving him your empty words before you both die? I don’t know whether that’s noble or cruel. Such a fine line, sometimes,” Smikka said.

“Are you OK?” Zim asked.

How surreal to hear such straightforward concern from him. Zim was always so guarded with his empathy. He tended to hide his worry for Dib inside his anger, a habit Dib had only recently picked up on.

“I’m fine,” Dib said.

“For now,” Smikka added.

Dib glared at him. “I’m with Smikka. I’m being held by a guard, but I’m alright. You just have to concentrate on winning, OK?”

Smikka pressed his mic button. “The stage is set, the players are ready… What about you, battle-lovers?”

Wild cries of delight filled the stadium.

“Fight!”

*****

The end of Beep’s PAK cable struck Zim in the center of his chest and threw him against the far wall of the arena. His head banged against the barrier and flashes of light obscured his vision as he fell to the floor. He’d only made it up on one knee before another cable grabbed his arm with its clamps and hurled him into the air.

The dark rows of stands whirled around him as he tried to orientate himself. His PAK legs erupted from his back and flailed, seeking ground that seemed to have disappeared. Before he could find the floor again, another cable whipped out from nowhere, batting him back across the stage.

Zim tumbled several feet across the tiles before his PAK limbs stopped him and hoisted him up. Still reeling from the vertigo, he lifted one limb to fire in a defensive circle around himself.

Beep pounced on him from above, pinning his PAK legs with her cables. She sat on his back as she flattened him to the floor, her claws puncturing his shoulders, her breath hot against his cheek.

“You’re not even making this fun. I’ve wasted so much time trying to find you, and killing you isn’t even _fun,_ ” she growled in his good antenna.

Her teeth sank into the side of Zim’s neck, and Zim screamed half from the sharp pain of it, half in horrified confusion. He pulled his PAK legs back, jerking them free of Beep’s cables. Beep released her bite to react, giving Zim the chance to fling an elbow at her jaw.

She exclaimed and, one hand to her bruised cheek, she lifted away from Zim, who scrambled to his feet. A cable instantly wrapped around his body like a python and plucked him off the ground again.

Beep held Zim at eye level and studied his face, her expression no longer placid. Her eyes were wide open and fierce. Zim’s blood slipped from the corners of her half-open mouth. Even had he not been restrained, Zim wasn’t sure he’d be able to move from under her ravenous gaze.

He’d never seen an Irken like this. This was something new. Something _terrible._

“Use your PAK legs!” Dib called in his antenna.

He couldn’t. The cable kept his panels clamped shut; he was completely stuck.

He forced a question from his constricted throat. “Do we know each other?”

“You don’t know me, but I know _you,_ ” Beep said. “You ruined the Control Brains. They were barely operational by the time the Tallests disappeared, and now, they’ve almost certainly been destroyed by the Resisty. But it doesn’t matter. I’m constructing my _own_ Control Brain, using the memories, abilities, and traits of only the strongest specimens.”

“Neat. Why are you telling me?”

One of Beep’s eyes twitched. “Because I want you to know how meaningless your death will be. You came here to free Irkens who either deserve to be eliminated from our race or who are destined for a grand new order. Perhaps you and your alien think you’re heroes, but in reality, you are nothing but a mild nuisance, interfering with things you are too small and stupid to understand.”

Zim smirked, his pride lending him temporary vigor. “If Zim is only a mild nuisance, why are you fighting him yourself?”

Beep’s eyes sparked and before Zim could register what was happening, she’d bashed him against the ground. His vision swam and he felt like he was about to be sick as she dragged him upright again.

“I am doing this for my own pleasure,” Beep said, inches from Zim’s face.

He snapped at her, but she leaned back in time to avoid his teeth. The cable holding him tightened for a moment, then spun Zim up into the air. Another cable swung down from above and smashed him back to the floor.

Zim landed hard on his hip and heard more than felt the wet snap of something breaking deep inside. Instead of agony, he sensed warmth spreading through his system as his PAK flooded him with painkillers. Too much of this and he’d lose consciousness, and all Beep would have to do was remove his PAK and…

A cable pinned him on his back, pressing firmly down on his chest to keep him still until Beep stood over him.

“Your only strength comes from the sheer, irreparable extent of your brokenness,” she said flatly. “You are a living mistake, only dangerous because of your defects. You are chaos, and I delight in erasing you from my perfect universe.”

*****

Zim started to say something from his pinned position, but Dib didn’t catch it before Zim was chucked back in the air to be batted around by Beep’s cable-arms, as if the other Irken were a cat playing with its prey. Every time Zim succeeded in landing on his PAK limbs and lining up a laser shot, the cables whipped his legs out from under him. Beep moved with impossible speed. Her cables flowed effortlessly around her, their range so much longer than Zim’s, though they didn’t appear to have laser capabilities.

Not that she needed lasers. With each impact, Zim slowed a little more. He relied entirely on his synthetic legs to hold him up in the brief moments he found the floor. The pale, triangular tiles were smeared with magenta blood. Every whimper and gasp that Zim’s communicator transmitted to Dib confirmed Dib’s worst fears.

He was going to die. They were both going to die. And it was all Dib’s fault.

The TransDibber buzzed on his wrist, which was buried beneath the tentacles of the guard still holding him. Skoodge and GIR… They’d be too late. They’d return to a fully functional Battle Zoo, and it wasn’t like either of them could simply hop on board to investigate what had happened. Even if they could, they’d find that nothing had changed. Zim and Dib would be dead, and the station would continue on as usual.

This was all so pointless. Dib had gotten them killed for _nothing._

“For what it’s worth, I wanted to keep you alive,” Smikka said almost somberly.

For the first time, Dib registered the wetness on his own cheeks. He’d been crying. How embarrassing… He couldn’t even maintain his dignity through his last minutes of life. At least Smikka wasn’t looking at him. The alien’s eyes were glued to the arena, though he hadn’t made any commentary through the mic since the start of the fight.

“Beep agreed you were quite adept for a member of an otherwise primitive and undocumented species. She considered you too much of a risk to be a real asset, however. She’s likely correct,” Smikka said. “The success of Operation Encompassing Doom is too vital for my master to chance on an unknown variable like you.”

Dib writhed against the guard’s hold, though he didn’t know what he’d even do if he escaped their clutches. If Dib could reach the control panel, maybe he could damage it and interrupt the fight. Surely there was a control for the energy barriers around the arena. He could find that switch and turn it off to give Zim a chance to escape.

Perhaps if he got into Smikka’s head…

“So, Beep is your boss? Not the other way around?”

“She is more than that. She is my rescuer and my partner. She has advanced my programming far beyond my original diplomatic capabilities,” Smikka said.

“Programming…?”

Recognition hit Dib like a truck. GIR had seen it immediately. GIR had even _warned_ Dib about Smikka…

_“New master, I gotta protect you from that there robot.”_

Smikka wasn’t just Beep’s partner or slave.

He was her SIR.

*****

Zim’s PAK legs had stopped catching him. They let him crash to the ground with each of Beep’s strikes and then, sluggishly, they pushed his weary body back up.

Zim blinked his good eye to get a clearer image of Beep as she approached him again. Good. Some of his shots had hit their mark. Beep’s simple dress was singed and torn, and she was streaked with blood. Some of that blood was surely hers. It had to be. Zim wouldn’t let her get out of this without a few wounds to remember him by.

Even if those wounds were fated to fade.

Zim tried to fire another laser, but his PAK’s reserves were exhausted. The metal burned his back as the device fought to fix his body. He’d resisted the PAK-sent impulse to simply close his eyes and let the machinery carry him to safety. He knew there was no safety to retreat to.

Dib was talking. He couldn’t understand the words. He just wanted to listen to his voice for a while. It had deepened over the past decade, but it still squeaked sometimes. Zim liked the squeaks. They meant Dib was excited about something. Maybe he was angry, or maybe he was having a good time… It didn’t matter. Zim enjoyed his energy, and couldn’t help but share in it.

_Dib…_

A cable end caught him by the throat and dangled him in the air, his metal legs slack behind him. Beep’s face took up his entire field of vision. Bulging honey-eyes bored holes into him.

“Dib?” she said.

Had he said his name out loud?

“He’s next, you know. I haven’t decided how I’ll do it yet. Do you know what his weaknesses are?” Beep asked.

Rage electrified Zim’s body, energized his claws enough to swing forward and slice three pink lines through the front of Beep’s blue-gray dress. Beep looked down at her injury, though her face remained neutral. Another cable snaked from behind her back and attached to Zim’s PAK without Beep even looking up to guide it.

“Killing you is a greater kindness than you deserve,” Beep said, and she ripped the PAK from Zim’s spine.

*****

“ZIM!!!”

His name tore its way out of Dib’s throat, taking his heart with it. Dib’s mouth hung open as Beep hoisted the PAK above her head like a trophy. He couldn’t hear anything beyond the rush of blood through his own head.

Zim had lost. All that was left was for Beep to destroy his PAK. Then she’d destroy Dib. And the station would keep spinning. And nothing would matter.

All the hours they’d spent among the stars. Every weird delicacy Zim had introduced Dib to in the alien markets they visited. Each close call and joyful conclusion. The moments spent in comfortable silence on the couch, taking in each other’s warmth. The arguments over who picked the next destination. GIR waking him up to act out an episode of his favorite TV show in the middle of the night. Falling asleep at the Voot’s navigation table and waking up with a blanket over his shoulders.

Meaningless. Gone.

And then there was Earth… Dib hadn’t checked in with Gaz for at least a month. They’d traveled so far… Long range communications were difficult without a larger transmitter than the Voot could comfortably carry. But that was no excuse. He should have found a way. He was a shitty brother, and now he was a _dead_ shitty brother, and Gaz would never even know he died.

And what about his dad? Dib had spent so long being furious with him for being complacent in the conquering of Earth not by an alien but by a fellow human. It had served Professor Membrane’s interests, ultimately. Fewer regulations on his work. More freedom to do all the morally-gray acts of science he wanted. And that’s all that mattered to him.

Well. Not _all_ that mattered. They’d been making progress before Dib left Earth. Dib had just wanted some (literal) space. They were supposed to make up. The love was still there.

But now Dib would never see his father or sister again.

He’d erased his own future.

He’d killed his best friend.

Maybe he deserved this empty ending.

“Another triumph for Beep,” Smikka said into the microphone. “Go ahead, my dear. Destroy it.”

Dib’s body moved as though possessed. He wrenched a shoulder loose from the tentacles, gained just enough space to yank his arms free.

He punched the illusion off of Smikka’s frame with a single vicious swing of his fist. The holographic disguise flickered and dropped as Smikka staggered back.

The tentacles snapped at his arms to restrain him again, but Dib struggled on, swinging and kicking with all the energy he had left, stopping only when he heard Zim’s voice in his ear, hardly more than a sigh.

“… The Voot is here…”

*****

As his lifeclock ticked away and Beep waved his detached PAK high above him, Zim wondered why death was so often accompanied by hallucinations.

He’d heard Dib’s voice calling his name, swore he could see the human standing over him. He reached up for a hand that wasn’t there.

The image of Dib faded. The real Dib would fade soon too, and Zim had failed to stop it. He’d failed at everything. Even friendship, something Dib seemed to think was the most natural thing in the universe. He’d let his human die.

He needed to apologize. It was the proper thing to do. Despite his amazingness, the broken parts of him had won out in the end, and Dib had paid the price for it. Yes, Zim should apologize, and tell Dib something else, something very important.

Far above Beep and the lights and the rows of stands, a shape was careening directly toward the station. He knew that shape. It was shaped like home.

Wait… Was that the important thing he wanted to say? Zim couldn’t remember. It seemed important enough, though. Even if it _was_ a hallucination.

As the words passed his lips, the Voot Cruiser shattered through the top of the Battle Zoo dome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I commissioned a drawing of Beep from alien--fuckers--anonymous on tumblr, and I absolutely love how it came out. So here's totally stable former Control Brain engineer Beep! https://dionysuscrysis.tumblr.com/post/613073895143112704/alienfuckersanonymous-commission-for 
> 
> Also, speaking of tumblr, I'm super grateful for the folks who have spread and commented on my story there too. You lift my spirits in these scary times, and I hope I'm doing the same for you!


	9. Chapter 9

A strange, collective moment of silence swept over the stadium after the Voot crashed into the center of the arena in a hail of broken glass. The ship sat smoldering in a crater of its own making, smoke billowing up toward a shimmering bubble that had appeared in place of the dome’s ruined ceiling.

Self-sealing. Like Smikka had said. How about that.

Dib shook himself out of it. The tentacles around him had slackened in shock. He needed to move. NOW.

He whipped around to face the guard, snatched the energy pistol from their waist, and leveled it at them. The guard needed no further instruction. They bolted for a door at the back of the room.

Outside the control room, cries of panic overtook the quiet. White light illuminated the stands, where hundreds of patrons scrambled over each other to reach the exits. A dozen different panels flashed alerts across the control array in front of Dib.

“Please remain calm,” an electronic voice requested over the loudspeakers. “The dome has been secured. For your safety, please proceed in a calm and orderly fashion to the docking bay and await further instruction. The Battle Zoo will resume normal operations shortly.”

The crowd did _not_ appear to be calmed by that. But Dib wasn’t particularly interested in the crowd. Instead, he leaned over the control panel to search for Zim in the carnage.

“Emergency protocol activated.”

Dib scuttled back as Smikka – no longer hidden by his hologram, thanks to Dib’s lucky punch – lifted his arm. He looked a bit like GIR, but taller and a little more detailed in his design. His features were narrower, his eyes were smaller and more flush with his face. Altogether, he looked more Irkenoid than a standard SIR, not that Dib had seen many to compare him with.

He was familiar enough with SIRs, however, that he knew better than to stand in Smikka’s way as the robot charged up a plasma beam in his palm and fired an explosive ball of energy through the window.

 _Emergency protocol…_ Dib’s panic-addled brain processed the words slowly. Had it been mere hours ago that GIR had activated the same protocol? That meant…

A quixotic rush of energy rejuvenated Dib’s tired mind. Beep was in trouble, and Smikka was compelled to save her. Apparently by blasting out of the control booth. Dib watched as Smikka’s jet-propelled legs charged up.

Even as Dib lunged for Smikka, he couldn’t believe himself. He threw his arms around Smikka’s shoulders, hitching a ride as the SIR shot through the window. Unprepared for the sudden weight, Smikka spiraled out and down, Dib screaming and flapping behind him like a human cape. The stadium, bright and terrible, spun around Dib as he clung for dear life to the cold body of the bot.

Smikka crashed chest-first onto the arena floor. The impact flung Dib forward, and though he managed to throw out his arm to slow himself, pain spiked from the heel of his hand to his elbow as he did. He rolled to a stop, cradling his injured arm but never losing his grip on the pistol.

When the world stopped spinning, Dib sat up. Smoke spilled across the battlefield from the wreckage of the Voot, which rested about 100 feet behind Dib. He peered into the smoke, cringing at the stink of burning chemicals, searching for signs of life. Something shifted in the haze, but it was too fuzzy to make out.

“Stand aside,” Smikka said.

Dib turned to face him, pistol raised in his undamaged right hand. “I’m not after Beep. If you really didn’t want to kill me before, then collect your master and leave Zim and me alone.”

Smikka stared at Dib, but Dib wasn’t sure whether he was considering the deal or simply waiting for Dib to move. The red in his eyes faltered and fluctuated between wrathful crimson and neutral teal. Was that good?

Something clanked behind Dib and he stepped back a few paces to look, still training the pistol on Smikka. A silhouette of spider legs approached through the smoke.

_Zim._

Before Dib could shout to him, another figure rushed between them. Two cables rose from her back, poised like cobras about to strike, aiming at Zim’s shadow. The other two cables had been severed, their PAK ports sparking white against the encompassing black smoke.

“YOU.” Beep’s voice sounded like it was made of shattered glass. “You don’t even have enough honor to die.”

Dib swung the gun from Smikka to Beep and back again, unsure of which one he should target. Both were a threat. Beep was between him and Zim, but Smikka was between both of them and the Champion Board. Zim could still get up there and short-circuit the station. Skoodge hadn’t arrived yet, but…

No… The Voot Cruiser. That had to mean Skoodge was here. But if that were true, Skoodge was hours ahead of schedule. He couldn’t have reached his larger ship in time. Why was the Voot here? Had he given up? Turned back around?

Zim’s PAK legs carried him out of the sea of smoke and held him upright in front of Beep. He looked like something Dib would have wiped off of his windshield after a summer drive through the countryside, but at least he was alive. One eye was swollen shut, but the other was locked onto Beep.

“Allow me to dispatch him for you, my master,” Smikka said.

Dib’s finger twitched on the trigger of the gun as he aimed the barrel squarely at the SIR’s head. “Fucking try it.”

Beep ignored Dib’s threat, not so much as glancing back when he spoke. “No need. He wants to get to the Champion Board so he can poison it with his PAK. He somehow thinks he can get through _me_ first.”

“Please, Beep. You’re injured.”

Dib blinked, caught off guard by the compassion in the robot’s tone.

The kindness only served to fuel Beep’s mania. “I am FINE.”

“You don’t look so fine to us,” Zim croaked.

“Zim,” Dib said by way of warning.

He was stuck. If he shot at Smikka or Beep, he’d have to make damn sure not to miss. Even if he could take one of them out with a single blast, the other would get an opportunity to attack, and Zim was in no state to act as much defense. All things considered, they were outgunned.

“TIKI. Take the human hostage,” Beep ordered.

Oh, it wasn’t going to be as easy as that. Dib fired at Smikka (TIKI? Yeah, TIKI) as the SIR moved forward. “TIKI” ducked to the side, but the blast caught his shoulder, disabling the arm that had blasted through the control room window. The other arm’s hand closed its fingers into a point that glowed with red energy. Another laser weapon, Dib assumed, but Beep hadn’t given the bot permission to kill him, just capture him. Dib hoped that some sort of Irken Law of Robotics would prevent TIKI from murdering him outright, at least for the moment.

He squeezed off another shot, blasting a hole through TIKI’s side. TIKI stumbled but continued forward. His functional arm, still powering up some kind of weapon, hooked around Dib’s waist. Dib flowed with the bot’s momentum, not letting TIKI drag him in, turning their bodies so Dib’s back was to the Champion Board. If he could just keep TIKI occupied, Zim could get around Beep. She was missing two cables. There was a _chance._

“DON’T TOUCH HIM!” Zim howled as his PAK legs – oddly jerky in their movements – crouched in preparation of a leap.

“I’m fine! Go!” Dib yelled.

TIKI was barely taller than Zim, but he was disproportionately strong. With his hurt arm close to his chest, Dib continued to wheel with TIKI’s motions, guiding the weaponized arm away and keeping himself on TIKI’s damaged side. He’d make himself as difficult to grasp as possible, but he couldn’t keep it up for long.

Dib was about to shout again for Zim to get moving when TIKI suddenly stopped trying to grapple him. Confused, Dib froze in place.

“Master, the Board!” TIKI said.

Beep turned away from Zim. “What?”

All eyes lifted to the base of the Champion Board where a small, chubby figure stood in front of an empty hexagonal cell. Backlit by the honeyed glow of the Board, Skoodge waved a hand in greeting and stepped backwards to fit his PAK into the cell’s slot.

“Wait… WAIT!” Beep shrieked. “Shoot him! Quickly!”

It happened so quickly. Blocking out the pain, Dib shoved TIKI’s weaponized hand down with his injured arm while raising his stolen pistol into place between TIKI’s eyes. Two lasers fired simultaneously.

The red light in TIKI’s eyes flickered again, settling on a weak, guttering blue right before they dimmed forever. The SIR crumpled, heavy steel thunking against the arena tiles.

But Beep’s focus was still on the Board, apparently still expecting a shot to eliminate Skoodge before he could attach himself, not even considering that Dib might have interfered.

The shot never came. Skoodge fitted himself into the cell, and after a pause that could only have been seconds but felt like hours, the Board flashed with blinding light. Dib shielded his eyes as tendrils of electricity licked across the structure starting from Skoodge’s cell, shattering each section’s lights as the energy raced toward the top. The dozen or so Irkens pinned to the Board shrieked in alarm and balled themselves up to resist the surge. As the energy passed through each of their cells, they were dropped unceremoniously from their positions, the PAK-holding mechanisms no longer functional. Most instantly deployed PAK limbs and clambered away from the short-circuiting tower like spiders fleeing a burning building. They scattered into the empty stands and toward whatever exits they could find.

With a loud clunk and a dying whir, the white stadium lights burned out and red emergency lights bathed the entire area in their place. Momentarily blinded by the change, Dib tripped over TIKI’s fallen form, landing hard on his ass.

“My Control Brain!” Beep shouted as a siren began to blare. “TIKI, get to the-”

Shit. Dib crawled backwards, almost crab-walking, to get out of Beep’s way as she ran toward her SIR. She sank down next to the bot, grabbed him by the shoulders, and pulled him up. The SIR’s head drooped forward, dark and unresponsive.

As Beep inspected TIKI, Zim staggered clumsily but swiftly forward on his metal legs. He poised himself over Dib, protectively caging him in with limbs he barely seemed to have control over. Dib decided not to argue about it. He wasn’t sure he could even speak loud enough to be heard over the alarm.

Beep let TIKI fall back to the floor and snapped her attention to Dib. His heart stopped as the Irken stared him down with wet, wrathful eyes. Above him, Zim made a threatening, crackling sound deep in his throat.

The tension was shattered by a loud boom somewhere in the distance. Beep looked in its direction and appeared to come to a decision.

“I am _not_ done with you,” she hissed before she scooped TIKI off the ground and shot her cables toward the top of the arena wall. The cables zipped her out of the arena, then repeated the process, slinging her up through the tiers of stands until she vanished from view.

Dib jumped at the sound of something metallic landing behind him. He twisted around to see Skoodge collecting himself off the ground, his PAK legs splayed on either side of him, as if they’d tried to stop his fall but failed. Skoodge shook his head as he stood up, looking somewhat frazzled but more or less intact.

“Hurry and switch Zim back,” Zim said, stepping away from Dib. “Zim tires of Skoodge’s quibbling in his head.”

Dib felt like he had all the puzzle pieces laid out before him, and yet he could not put the entire picture together. If only the alarm would quiet, or the horrible red light would soften. He couldn’t think properly amid all the chaos. Another explosion rumbled in the distance. Just what the hell had Skoodge done to the station?

Skoodge squeezed his eyes shut as he spoke, perhaps also overwhelmed by the environment. “Skoodge thinks Zim should keep his PAK for a few more minutes. To help with the healing.”

Dib’s head felt full of cotton. Why wasn’t this making sense? What was going on?

“Zim does not need help,” Zim retorted, but there was little conviction in his voice. He lowered himself down from the PAK legs, but when his organic legs tried to take his weight, Zim cried out and fell forward. Skoodge caught him and eased him to the ground.

“I don’t understand,” Dib finally managed to say, his tongue oddly slow and leaden in his mouth, tripping over consonants.

Zim’s undamaged antenna perked up, and against the red glow, Dib noticed his communicator strip had peeled partway off of it. Zim sat up and faced Dib, a crooked smile forming on his bruised face.

“Dib-beast! We did it!”

Dib coughed away some of the smoke that had traveled across the arena from the Voot’s wreckage. “Uh…”

“I switched our PAKs after I landed. Er, crashed,” Skoodge said. He reached behind his back, removed his (Zim’s?) PAK, and handed it to Zim. He then pulled what was apparently his own PAK off of Zim and settled it into its rightful place. Zim – straining to reach backwards – clicked his PAK into position as well.

“But you were… How are you even here?” Dib asked.

The floor vibrated beneath Dib, and a low, grinding noise issued from somewhere far below. Another siren, higher-pitched, overlapped the original alarm.

“I can explain everything, but we don’t have time right now,” Skoodge said, nervous eyes roving the red shadows of the empty stadium. “The station’s going haywire. Tenn and GIR will need help with the prisoners. I don’t know if we can rely on life support for very long. There’s no telling the extent of the damage caused by Zim’s PAK.”

“Tenn…?” Dib blinked drowsily. Where had all his adrenaline gone? They weren’t out of danger yet. He couldn’t afford this sudden, enveloping fatigue.

“A friend,” Skoodge answered simply.

Dib smirked weakly. “See, Zim? Irkens have friends. I told you.”

Zim’s expression sobered. “Dib. You’re slurring.”

“I am…?”

Zim’s PAK legs lifted him from the ground and carried him back to Dib. He hovered in front of the human, his single working antenna fluttering over Dib’s face, searching for something. Dib batted the appendage away, his hand rubbery and uncooperative.

“Knock it off. What’re you doing?” Dib asked. He heard the slur now, but couldn’t correct it.

“You stink of blood. Where are you hurt?” Zim asked, invading Dib’s personal bubble even more. His hands skated over Dib’s shoulders and down his arms. One claw stopped near Dib’s elbow, which he’d been tucking in close to his body.

“Oh, yeah, I might’a broken something, but it’s fine. I’ll deal with it la’er,” Dib dismissed. “But you look like _shit._ ”

“I look amazing,” Zim stated as he lifted Dib’s arm up. Dib didn’t even feel it anymore. Which was probably good, right?

“No, you look like a cockroach that was smashed by a shoe,” Dib said, his eyelids drooping.

Zim lowered Dib’s arm carefully. “Where else?”

Dib blinked. “Wha…?”

Zim’s claws tightened on his shoulders. Dib could feel him shaking. Or was Dib shaking? The stadium had become so cold.

“Where else are you hurt?”

Before Dib could come up with an answer, Zim had pushed him onto his back. Dib couldn’t resist it. His body felt too heavy to command. He could only manage a soft “Hey” when Zim shoved his shirt up.

A pause. Sparks danced in the corners of Dib’s vision.

“Skoodge??” Zim said with a splintering voice.

Dib closed his eyes. Just a quick rest, then they could get on with the mission.

“Oh,” said Skoodge. “That doesn’t seem good. That must be from the SIR unit’s laser.”

“No,” Zim said. He sounded scared. “No no no no no no no…”

Dib vaguely detected an uncomfortable pressure on his abdomen. “…Stop…”

“The repair pod,” Zim said abruptly. “On the Voot. Did it survive the crash?”

“Zim, we don’t have much time. The station is falling apart, and the prisoners-”

“I do not _fucking_ care about the prisoners,” Zim snarled. “Did the repair pod survive?”

“I don’t know.”

Dib sensed arms encircling his upper body and pulling him up from the ground.

“Zim is taking Dib to the Voot. You deal with the prisoners.”

“…OK. I’ll come back for you,” Skoodge said.

Dib couldn’t open his eyes, but he felt himself moving. Warm arms held him securely against Zim’s chest. He could hear something akin to a heartbeat… A rapid, regular pulse without the lilting rhythm of a human heart. He heard breathing, too. He’d listened to so much of Zim’s breathing in the past few hours, thanks to his communicators. The breaths were rough and wet, but they meant Zim was _alive._ Maybe everything would be OK.

At the very edge of his senses, Dib heard one other thing: Zim’s voice, low and plaintive.

“ _Please please please please please…_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worse and worse and worse, darlings.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note just to play it safe: There's a brief description of a panic attack/negative self-talk in Zim's section of this chapter. If you need to avoid that, read until the first set of asterisks, and then jump down to the next set of asterisks to finish the chapter out.

The last few hours had been eventful for Skoodge. So eventful, in fact, that he found himself wistfully reflecting upon a series of books he’d read on Earth while hiding in Zim’s basement. The books featured a race of small, hairy-footed humans who lived out in the green hills of a place called Middle-earth, which was a confusing name. These little people did not mind their lack of height, as it had no bearing on their status among each other. What mattered to them was food and family and festivity.

Skoodge envied them. He ached sometimes for a life where those things could be enough, where he could plant seeds and watch them grow.

Perhaps that made him defective. A different sort of defective from Zim, maybe, but Skoodge recognized his fantasies could not be reconciled with the Irken Empire’s goals.

But the Irken Empire was on its deathbed, and so Skoodge dreamed of being a hobbit, cheerfully alone in a house with a round door, as he shot through space in a heavily modified Voot Cruiser with a completely insane robot as his co-pilot.

Not long into the journey, however, he’d received an unusual call, transmitted in short-wave format to all in the area. The voice on the call belonged to Tenn, an invader he’d assisted in escaping from Meekrob, where she’d been living underground for years. Her retrieval had been a particularly unusual one. Her mission had been ruined by the arrival of malfunctioning SIRs. She’d been exposed as an invader and forced into hiding, so cut off from the Empire that she didn’t even know that the Tallests had vanished or that the Resisty had overtaken Irk.

Despite the jarring news, Tenn hadn’t seemed all that perturbed. She’d chosen to go her own way once they were free of Meekrob instead of staying with Skoodge to rescue other abandoned invaders. It surprised Skoodge, then, to hear her searching for him.

She’d apparently decrypted the Battle Zoo transmission as well, and had decided to reconnect with Skoodge about it. Skoodge wondered why she’d had the change of heart about joining his cause. A conversation for another time, he supposed. As it was, Tenn had tracked down Skoodge’s vessel – a large, repurposed cargo ship – only to find it abandoned on a lonely planet, with the coordinates to the Battle Zoo still active on the ship’s empty escape pod bay.

So she’d taken Skoodge’s ship and followed that trajectory out, calling through short-wave to find him, hoping to apprehend him before he got himself stuck. In this way, the two vessels met partway between the station and the planet Skoodge had parked his ship on.

A lucky turn of events, as it happened.

He’d tried to let Dib know they were ahead of schedule. With the additional time available, they could plan the prison break in greater detail. But Dib hadn’t been able to talk, which worried Skoodge. Something didn’t feel right, and they were mere minutes from the station.

His fears were confirmed when Dib didn’t answer his second call. Zooming in on the Battle Zoo dome from the bridge of his ship, he saw a dire scene underway. So much for additional planning.

It was GIR’s idea to smash through the dome. Skoodge would have preferred a more cautious approach, but Tenn seemed to think it was a reasonable course as well. So Skoodge had buckled himself in, deployed all the shielding devices the Voot had at its disposal, and exploded through the dome like a wrecking ball.

By some miracle, his aim was true and Skoodge didn’t crush Zim or his PAK upon impact. Zim’s body was unresponsive when Skoodge found him among the rubble, but Skoodge’s PAK flushed him with life again. Zim listened listlessly to Skoodge’s instructions to keep attention away from the Board. Maybe Zim understood what was happening, or maybe he didn’t. But he was good at drawing attention to himself, so Skoodge didn’t sweat that part too much.

Zim’s PAK, once Skoodge found it, was another ordeal in itself. As soon as it attached to Skoodge’s spine, it flooded his head with manic impulses. Zim’s voice squirreled through Skoodge’s brain, frantically repeating Dib’s name, begging the PAK’s host to find the human. Skoodge almost couldn’t convince the depleted PAK to obey him enough to sneak onto the stage.

When he plugged himself into the Board, Skoodge willed the hysterical energy of Zim’s PAK into it. Whatever corruption lurked in the device was as frenzied and ambitious as Zim himself and it consumed the tower like wildfire. Skoodge sensed the energy surging through the Board and further into the station’s circuitry as if it were an extension of himself. It reached deep into the Battle Zoo’s brain, tearing apart connections, melting down every system it encountered.

Absolute chaos encompassed the station, and they’d need to make every second of it count.

Which was a problem, because now Skoodge was standing in the decimated arena, watching Zim limp away on barely operational PAK limbs, carrying a bleeding human toward the smoking remains of the Voot Cruiser.

Oh, to be in the Shire, eating an apple and tending a garden.

It would be alright. He’d assumed Zim would be in no condition to help with the rescue, but he’d hoped that Dib would be available. He liked the human. Dib seemed kind, which was a trait Skoodge had neither understood nor valued until his time on Earth.

On Skoodge’s first reading of _The Hobbit,_ he hadn’t understood the concept of family either. Life on Irk had been simultaneously collective and isolating. But after surviving the Tallests’ cruelty and fleeing to a planet full of family units in every shape and size, he gradually gained an understanding. If he could comprehend and appreciate such a foreign concept, maybe other Irkens could as well. Maybe there were lost souls among the stars that _needed_ family now that their Empire had fallen.

Some Irkens responded better than others, but Skoodge never tired of his mission, never gave up on the belief that he could relate to his brethren in a new way now that the stain of the Empire was being washed away from the universe.

Perhaps Tenn could feel that too. Perhaps that was why she’d sought Skoodge out again. Perhaps this was a first step toward something like Skoodge had read about in his fantasy novels.

Perhaps this could all be thought about later.

Skoodge fled the stadium to join Tenn and GIR in the cellblock, hoping that when he returned to the arena, both Zim and the kind human would still be alive.

*****

Zim ripped the crooked door off of the Voot with a PAK leg in order to make room for himself and his human cargo to enter the cabin. His eyes watered at the stench of melting electronics, but it appeared that most of the fires had died out, leaving the inside of the Voot a black, sooty mess lit only by flickering red emergency lights.

The Voot had touched town nose-first, resulting in a floor that slanted down toward the cockpit at an uncomfortable angle. Zim’s metal limbs climbed up the slope to the repair pod as his flesh arms strained to bear Dib’s weight. The human had passed out before they’d even reached the crash site. Hopefully, that meant Dib was temporarily spared the pain of the laser shot that had entered above his left hip and exited through his back.

Bracing himself with three PAK legs, Zim used the fourth to shove open the repair pod cover. He settled Dib gently inside, mindful of the wound in his middle and his almost definitely broken arm. Dib stirred a little, a soft moan forming in his throat.

“It is OK. Zim will fix it,” Zim muttered as he slid the cover over Dib.

The control panel was completely dark. Zim retrieved a pronged gadget from his PAK, but the action cost energy, causing one of his support legs to buckle. Zim caught himself with an arm on the edge of the repair pod and willed the leg to straighten. Once it felt secure enough again, Zim pried up the face of the control panel and used the delicate prongs of his device to dig through the exposed wires, searching for a break.

The deeper Zim worked into the machine, the less his good eye was able to focus on the task. His ocular implant blurred and failed to readjust when Zim looked from the wiring to the lifeless monitors above the pod. He blinked furiously and rubbed at his swollen eye as if he might coax it open again. As he did, his tool slipped from his hand and clanked across the floor and into the shadows of the cockpit.

Zim clicked an Irken curse to himself and called another instrument from his PAK, which whirred in exertion at what should have been a simple task. As Zim gripped the soldering tool, he resisted another call from his PAK to collapse and allow the device to devote its full energy to repairing his body and replenishing its stores.

Zim shook his head and leaned back into his work, burning new pathways through the repair pod’s innards to jury-rig it back to functionality. The main power supply of the ship was down, but the emergency lights still had electricity. The reserves powering those lights were located nearby… Maybe he could forge a connection between the reserves and the repair pod. It might take out the lights, but Zim didn’t need them. If he could fix the pod enough to accelerate Dib’s healing even slightly, it could be the difference between life and death.

He froze as he uncovered a mass of melted wires, blocking the way toward the auxiliary power supply.

“No,” Zim breathed.

Impossible. It would take hours to parse the mess, and Dib didn’t _have_ hours. Bile burned in Zim’s throat. Dib might not even have _minutes._ Humans were so fragile… All those separate, essential organs jumbled together… No devices to slow blood loss… Nothing to reactivate their brains in the event of…

Zim’s vision tunneled. His ribs ached with his frantic, shallow breaths and his fingers and face turned from tingly to numb. He slammed the control panel closed and wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

 _Keep it together._ Dib had medical supplies in his bunk. Zim could buy Dib some time with those and then search the Battle Zoo for a functioning healing chamber. Surely there was a med bay on this hellish station, and it would have to be equipped with devices for a variety of organisms. Dib just needed a quick patch job, and then they’d be on their way.

Zim’s PAK legs made it a few steps up the slant toward Dib’s chamber before they folded under his weight and dropped him to the floor. Gritting his teeth, Zim pushed himself up on his hands and knees. The right side of his body felt like it was engulfed in flames, burning all the way to the bone.

“Worthless!” Zim wailed as soon as he’d regained enough air to speak. He batted a slack metal limb and it spasmed to life again. The others gradually followed suit and hauled him off the ground. “Stupid, useless piece of garbage…”

He fumbled forward and slid aside the door to Dib’s sleeping area. The tiny room had been trashed in the impact. Blankets twisted across the floor, wrapping around the few mementos of Earth that Zim had permitted Dib to bring aboard. A couple little figurines, some books, an ammonite fossil that he and Gaz had stumbled upon while hiking, and a long, black feather…

Without really thinking about it, Zim pulled the feather out of the tangle of blankets and stowed it in his PAK. He retrieved the medical kit from its compartment, returned to the repair pod, and pushed open the lid.

Dib’s chest rose and fell slowly, as though he were in a deep sleep. Zim tried not to jostle him as he wiped away some of the blood that had spilled down his side and wrapped a bandage around his wounds. He didn’t like how cool Dib’s skin felt beneath his fingers, or how his eyebrows bent toward each other in a subtle wince when Zim taped the wrapping down.

Zim reached to hoist Dib out of the pod but a burst of lightheadedness stalled him. He anchored his claws in the metal frame and waited for it to subside. Another impulse issued from his PAK, telling him to float away with the dizzy feeling. How nice it would be to relax and let the pain fade…

“NO! Shut up, shut up!”

Zim slapped his own face to bring himself back to reality. The bright sting of it grounded him again, and he pulled Dib out of the pod, cradling him against his chest. Carrying Dib was a bit awkward given his height, but Zim held him with an iron grip.

A worrisome grinding came from his PAK as Zim backed toward the Voot’s door. Another wave of exhaustion swept through his body and threatened to drown him. Fine. If his useless PAK was so insistent on ruining everything, then Zim would just have to ensure that if he lost his fight with it, he wouldn’t lose his human in the process.

He could do this. He could _fix_ this, whatever the cost.

*****

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Tenn said. She angled her tablet toward Skoodge to prove her calculations. “There were 146 prisoners in these cells, but only 24 are coming with us.”

Skoodge rubbed the tension out of his forehead with the heel of his hand. “But… We have a ship! We’re offering to take them wherever they want to go!”

“Anywhere but Irk,” Tenn corrected, drawing back her antennae emphatically.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Skoodge said. “The station is collapsing. Our ship is the only sure means of escape.”

“Not the only sure means. Some of the prisoners are hijacking maintenance vehicles and escape pods. They’re finding a way off on their own,” Tenn said, pulling up another image on her tablet. A video feed reinforced her words… A small fleet of food trucks and maintenance vessels flowed away from the Battle Zoo, presumably piloted by fleeing Irkens.

Tenn returned the tablet to her PAK and tilted her head at Skoodge. “Hey. At least we got some of them. All 146 would have been a tight squeeze in your cargo bay.”

“I guess,” said Skoodge.

Twenty-four. It seemed like such a small number for the amount of trouble Skoodge had gone through to pull off this heist. At the same time, however, he recognized that Smikka Smikka Smoodoo’s Screw You Battle Zoo would not easily recover from this catastrophe. System by system, the station was darkening under the chaotic influence of Zim’s corruption. Even if Smikka could swing the repairs and draw back his audience, he no longer had a collection of prisoners to pit against each other.

Not only that, but Skoodge wasn’t sure Smikka was even in the picture anymore. He still didn’t understand what had happened with Beep and the mysterious SIR unit that had shot Dib. Had Beep turned on Smikka? Or was she his last line of defense, and the SIR was her backup?

Skoodge supposed it didn’t matter for the time being. For now, he had a cargo ship loaded up with Irken prisoners that he needed to evacuate from a dying space station. There was also the matter of Zim and Dib back in the arena.

He nervously twisted his antenna between his fingers as he reviewed the scene in front of him. Tenn had docked the cargo ship in the Battle Zoo’s delivery bay – a wide, warehouse-like section of the station where shipments of vendor supplies were processed. Most of the willing escapees had boarded the ship already, but a few loitered outside of the loading ramp, antennae twitching anxiously toward the distant sounds of pandemonium. GIR had discovered a crate full of Vort dogs and was flopping around in it without a care in the world.

“So, what do we do?” Tenn asked.

Skoodge self-consciously let go of his antenna and balled his fists at his sides, trying to regain some decorum. “Could you get the last of the prisoners onboard? Oh, and ask if any of them have any medical training. The ship has a med bay, but I don’t know much about using it. I know it doesn’t have an organic repair chamber, but other than that…”

Tenn gave him a curious look. “Everyone seems to be in decent condition. At least, I didn’t notice any injuries that a PAK couldn’t repair within a few hours. Do you think we’ll _need_ to use the med bay?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure we will,” Skoodge said, frowning. “I need to go back for Zim and Dib. I’ll take GIR with me.”

Tenn seemed relieved by his last sentence. “Alright. I’ll call if there’s any trouble.”

Skoodge whistled for GIR, who scrambled out of the box of meat and skipped in his direction, glistening under a layer of grease.

“Are we gettin’ my masters now?” GIR asked with his hands clasped together in anticipation.

“‘Masters’? Right, uh, yes,” Skoodge said, momentarily distracted by GIR’s use of plural. “I think I’ll need your help. Let’s hurry.”

They were most of the way back to the arena when GIR’s panels shifted from teal to red, a transition made all the more dramatic by the darkness of the hallway. Not even the emergency lights had managed to sustain themselves here, which unnerved Skoodge considerably.

“GIR?”

“Distress protocol initiated,” GIR said as he quickened his steps. No more mindless humming or random bursts of giggles. In the blink of an eye, Zim’s eccentric SIR had acquired total focus, and Skoodge found he had to jog and then sprint to keep up with him.

When they exited the hall and entered the stadium – still illuminated by red lights, to Skoodge’s relief – GIR’s boosters activated. He blasted ahead of Skoodge, who followed as closely as he could by crawling down the stands on his PAK limbs.

Halfway between the Voot and the battlefield wall, a set of PAK legs inched along at a snail’s pace. GIR landed next to the legs in full defensive mode, his eyes scanning the empty arena for threats. As Skoodge caught up with the robot, he was briefly stunned by the sight before him.

Zim’s unconscious body dangled from his PAK with his arms wrapped tightly around Dib from behind, bound there by a clumsy but practical harness of bandages. It was as though Zim were acting as a PAK for Dib, with the legs carrying them both slowly but surely toward the arena wall. Between the additional weight and the near total depletion of the PAK, Skoodge wondered at how the legs were still moving at all. What safety was its programming even trying to find?

The legs stopped when Skoodge stepped in front of them. Skoodge wasn’t sure how he could maneuver the awkward, ambulatory sculpture Zim had made of himself all the way to the ship, and he feared for the stability of the station. Already, the temperature had plummeted. Oxygen levels would surely follow, and while a healthy Irken could compensate for that, Skoodge seriously doubted that Dib or even Zim could handle such an environment at the moment.

First things first. Zim’s artificial limbs were of no help right now and would just get in the way. Skoodge needed to convince Zim to retract them. At least the legs weren’t walking anymore… It felt almost like they were waiting on Skoodge to say something.

“Hey, uh, Zim? Can you hear me?” Skoodge asked, glad that the station alarms had weakened to a fading whine. “It’s Skoodge. I have GIR with me. We’re going to take you and Dib to the ship, but I need you to put away your legs first.”

No response. What had Skoodge expected? Even if Zim could hear him, he’d probably refuse his aid, just as he always did. His pride would compel him to keep digging his own grave, and his human friend’s grave, too. The short flush of anger Skoodge felt at that thought surprised him.

Skoodge lifted two legs out of his PAK, ready to get physical if necessary. “I don’t want to fight you about this, but-”

Zim and his companion lowered to the ground before Skoodge could finish his well-intentioned threat. The metal legs dragged themselves back into their ports and Zim’s eye fluttered open to stare at Skoodge.

“… Help,” Zim squeaked, and Skoodge suspected that the word itself pained him to say.

GIR – panels once again a tranquil blue – trotted to his master’s side and clapped giddily. Skoodge nudged the SIR aside and started undoing the bandages that tied Zim to Dib’s back.

“Don’t worry. We’ve got it from here,” Skoodge reassured Zim.

Zim’s arms reached for Dib as their bodies separated. “…Dib…!”

“I’ll take care of him,” Skoodge said. “You can trust me.”

Whether because he was satisfied with the answer or simply unable to stay awake any longer, Zim’s eyelid slid closed again. Without instruction from Skoodge, GIR scooped his master off the ground and gave him a quick kiss on the head for good measure. Skoodge carefully lifted Dib, noting his warmth and the shallow but steady presence of his breathing. He didn’t know much about human anatomy, but those seemed like good things.

He wouldn’t let Zim down. Skoodge recognized a family when he saw it, and he’d do everything in his power to preserve this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pleeeeaaaase nobody tell my partner that I gave her love of Lord of the Rings to Skoodge.
> 
> Also, MelodyoftheVoid drew some amazing, emotional art for Every Star Another Sun and I've been sobbing softly to myself over it all day! Check it out! https://dionysuscrysis.tumblr.com/post/613746576856416256/melodyofthevoid-a-gift-for-dionysuscrysis-and 
> 
> AND ALSO THANKS SO MUCH.


	11. Chapter 11

“So… You really have medical experience? Like Tenn said?”

“Ugh. _Yes,_ I do.”

“What about with aliens?”

“He’s made of flesh and blood, isn’t he? Maybe less blood than usual, but hey, at least I know that, right?”

“This is really, really important…”

“I was originally in intelligence acquisition before I requested a re-encoding.”

“A torturer.”

“Sure, but if you’re who Tenn says you are, then you eradicated life on an entire planet. You don’t get to act squeamish about employment history with me. Anyway. I had to know how to take apart and reassemble every species that walked through my door. This guy has the same number of limbs and eyes as we do, so that’s a promising start. Also, I know hypovolemic shock when I see it. The faster you let me work on him, the better.”

“… Right. And you’re in an OK condition to do this? Your leg…”

“Your buddy dropped a giant rock on me earlier today. I’ve braced it so it’ll finish healing straight. It’ll be fine. Speaking of the little bastard, it looks like he’s awake.”

Zim blinked at the Irkens in front of him, both so familiar. The smaller one with the uneasy expression… Skoodge. Zim smiled at him, happy to see him for reasons he couldn’t quite recall. But the taller one with the tightly curled antennae and mean, crimson eyes?

“…Wrecker…” Zim mumbled, pointing a shaky claw at her in an attempt at intimidation.

“Hello to you too, you flighty fuck,” Rek said, crossing her arms. “Play nice and I’ll patch up your pet alien. Play extra nice and maybe I’ll take a look at you next.”

“We’re in the med bay of my ship,” Skoodge explained, stepping closer to Zim. “Rek has medical training. She’s going to take care of Dib, OK?”

“Dib?” Zim scanned the small, brightly-lit room for the human, panic spiking within him. Behind Rek, Dib’s body stretched across an examination table. His beloved coat had been removed, exposing a bloodied blue shirt and his limp, too-pale arms. Dib’s face was turned away from him, and for some reason, that tripled Zim’s anxiety.

“Zim, wait,” Skoodge said, holding Zim back as he tried to scramble off the bench he’d been propped up on.

“Don’t touch him!” Zim rasped, his voice not nearly as authoritative as he needed it to be. He shoved at Skoodge’s restrictive hold but couldn’t budge him.

Rek snapped on a pair of gloves and sneered at Zim. “He’s going to die if I don’t do anything. And you don’t want that, right?”

Zim’s body quaked as if he’d been electrocuted. Dib was going to die?? No, impossible, Zim wouldn’t permit it. He could fix this. He could fix everything, if only Skoodge would get out of the fucking way. He howled in contempt of Skoodge as the stout Irken pinned him to the bench by his shoulders.

“I can’t have him in here if he’s going to be like this,” Rek said, raising her voice to be heard over Zim’s furious cries.

Skoodge’s hand moved to the side of Zim’s face, gently but firmly turning his gaze away from Dib’s body. “It’s going to be OK. She knows what she’s doing.”

Zim hated his body for not having the strength to throw Skoodge off of him. He hated his PAK for failing to produce his metal legs when he mentally called for them. He hated how thin the air felt in this tiny room that reeked of chemicals. He hated the suffocating sense of helplessness that pressed down on him from all sides.

“Calm him down somewhere else. I need to focus,” Rek said, her back to both of them and her full attention on a panel hanging above Dib’s unconscious form. “I’ll call your PAK line if I need you.”

Zim’s perspective shifted and suddenly he was on his feet with his arm over Skoodge’s shoulders. White-hot pain flashed from his knee to his hip as he put weight on his leg, but Skoodge kept him vertical and shuffled closer to take more of the pressure off. Dazed by discomfort, Zim let himself be walked through a sliding door and into a quiet, dim hall.

“Wait,” Zim said, craning his neck to look back through the windows into the tiny med bay.

“We need to give her space to work,” Skoodge said. “She’s going to help him. I promise. And see? GIR’s right outside the door, keeping an eye on her.”

Skoodge was right. GIR stood with his face pressed against a window, monitoring Rek’s every move. He turned to offer Zim a quick salute before resuming his duty.

“He’s been very protective of Dib. He’ll let us know if we need to come back,” Skoodge said.

“…Come back…?”

“I figured we should clean you up a little. I have cleansing chalk in my cabin.”

“I don’t need…” Zim looked down at his shredded and bloodstained tunic. “Oh.”

Skoodge guided Zim forward, but Zim resisted.

“Zim?”

“I don’t want to go,” Zim said, his voice breaking.

Skoodge frowned. “I know. But you’ve done everything you can for Dib. The best thing you can do for him now is let someone else take care of him for a while.”

Zim grumbled and kept his eyes on the window. Rek had attached something to Dib’s inner arm and was now leaning over his uncovered torso, her antennae swiveling attentively forward as she inspected his wound. Her hands moved swiftly and confidently as she selected tools from a sterile tray and set to work.

“I, um… I understand how important Dib is to you,” Skoodge said. “I wouldn’t leave him with Rek unless I knew she was his best option. I know this is a lot to ask, but can you trust me?”

Zim looked over at GIR, who was still tracking Rek’s movements with a rare intensity. Then, as discreetly as he could, he stole a glance at Skoodge, who wore the same expression as he’d had in the arena. Zim had originally interpreted it as pity, but it dawned on him now that “concern” was the more apt term. Skoodge’s soft features were darkened by soot in patches, and for the first time, Zim noticed one of his antennae was slightly bent. An injury received while crashing the Voot into the Battle Zoo?

“…Yes,” Zim said. “I can… trust you.”

Skoodge’s brow ridges lifted almost imperceptibly, and a small, pleased smile appeared on his lips. “Oh! I mean, OK, good. My cabin is just down the hall.”

Zim allowed Skoodge to walk him down a short, quiet passageway, leaning heavily on him to avoid using his hurt leg. Skoodge pressed his palm to a panel in the wall, triggering a door to slide open.

Skoodge’s cabin was small but welcoming. It consisted primarily of a crescent-shaped desk and a low, oval-framed bed. The design was certainly not Irken, but the dark walls and soft, purple lights were familiar enough to put Zim at ease.

A large window took up most of the wall behind the cluttered desk. Beyond it, thousands of stars hung in the black void, filling Zim with a strange blend of relief and confusion.

“Where are we?” Zim asked as Skoodge sat him down on the bed. He swallowed back a whimper as Skoodge propped his injured leg up along the bed’s edge.

“My ship,” Skoodge said, the tiniest trace of pride in his tone. “Er, at least, a cargo ship I found and fixed up.”

“We’re away from the station?” Zim asked.

“Yes. We just departed. You were only out for a few minutes,” Skoodge said.

A horrible thought buzzed through Zim’s brain. “And we’re not being followed?”

“Tenn’s keeping an eye on everything,” Skoodge said as he rifled through a desk drawer. “She thinks all the spectators got out through the main docking bay and are putting as much distance between themselves and the station as they can. Then there were a bunch of prisoners who didn’t want to come with us and found their own rides. I don’t think anyone’s interested in following us.”

“What about Beep?” Zim asked, grateful that Skoodge was still digging through the desk and thus unable to see his trembling.

“Oh. Uh, actually, I don’t know what happened to her. Or to Smikka, for that matter. They probably evacuated the station as well. Life support was failing when we left the delivery dock…”

Zim whined a little, unable to stop the sound from forcing its way up his throat. Skoodge turned toward him, chalk in hand.

“I’m sure Smikka has other priorities than tracking us down at the moment. I don’t think you need to worry about it for now,” Skoodge said.

“You don’t understand,” Zim said, staring past Skoodge and through the window, searching for movement amid the stars. “It’s Beep… It was _her_ station. And Smikka was really her SIR, and he… he shot… he could’ve…”

The copper tang of human blood overwhelmed Zim’s senses. He stumbled over his words, forgetting what he’d meant to communicate.

Skoodge’s hand on his shoulder snapped him out of it. “Hey, it’s OK now. Tenn is watching out for the ship and Rek is taking care of Dib. Maybe in a few days I’ll go back to the Battle Zoo and see if I can find anything. But let’s just focus on cleaning you up first. I think you’d scare Dib if he woke up and saw you like this.”

Zim caught his breath and nodded. “Right… OK.”

“Let’s start here,” Skoodge said. He patted Zim’s shoulders and Zim reflexively raised his arms for Skoodge to remove the sorry remains of his tunic. His attention never left the window over Skoodge’s shoulder.

Beep could be out there _right now._ She could be coming for him, determined to finish the job. What if she was already on the ship? Zim didn’t remember boarding the ship, so what if Beep had snuck on with the rest of the prisoners without anyone noticing? She might already be stalking the halls. If she wanted to, she could sneak up on GIR and take him out. She could be in the med bay this very second, standing over Dib with those horrible cables and those wide, blank eyes…

“I’m really sorry about your clothes,” Skoodge said, abruptly and a little too loud.

Zim shook his head. “What?”

Skoodge held Zim’s ruined shirt in front of him, rubbing nervous circles into the fabric with his thumb. “Uh, they look like they were nice.”

“Oh,” said Zim. “Yeah, they were good… I need to call GIR.”

Skoodge lifted a hand as if to interrupt him, but Zim had already called his PAK phone forward. The effort of drawing it from its port gave Zim pause, but he still managed to connect to GIR before Skoodge could say anything.

GIR answered immediately. “Helloooo?”

“GIR. What’s Dib’s status?”

“He’s still sleepin’. Awww, so cute… Now go away! I’m working!”

“Wait, GIR. No sign of… of Beep, right?” Zim asked, mouth dry.

“Nope! It’s all okey-dokey-smokey.”

“For now, maybe, but-”

“Shh!”

Zim blinked. “Did… Did you just _shh_ at me?”

GIR groaned in aggravation. “You’re too loud and I gotta watch!”

The communication line dropped. Zim instantly tried to reconnect, but Skoodge’s hand closed over the mouthpiece.

“Skoodge, this is _important,_ ” Zim said, struggling to pull away.

“So is this!” Skoodge said as he brandished a piece of cleansing chalk in Zim’s face. “Rek is working on Dib, GIR is watching Rek, Tenn is looking after the ship, so could you _please_ just relax and let me help you?”

Zim recoiled, taken aback by Skoodge’s outburst. Skoodge looked away and awkwardly cleared his throat, a slight flush burning on his cheeks.

When Zim couldn’t take the silence anymore, he retracted his phone and spoke. “…Who the hell is Tenn?”

For the next few minutes, Zim listened as Skoodge described everything that had happened since he’d left the Battle Zoo. As he talked, Skoodge gently worked the chalk over Zim’s battered torso, considerate of the various burns and gashes that peppered his flesh. Zim exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when Skoodge finished cleaning the blood and grime from his chest and set aside the chalk.

“I have an extra shirt in a bin around here, somewhere,” Skoodge mumbled as he ducked under the edge of the bed. “Uh… There we go!”

He pulled out a boxy pink undershirt, not unlike the one Zim used to wear beneath his magenta tunic. Skoodge helped Zim slide it on, carefully adjusting the cloth so it didn’t snag Zim’s damaged antenna as it went over his head.

“Can I work on your face next?” Skoodge asked, picking up the chalk again.

Zim nodded and distracted himself by rolling the hem of the oversized shirt between his fingers while Skoodge lifted away the layers of dirt. When Skoodge got to his eye, Zim discovered that the swelling had gone down enough that he could open it again. At least there was that. Took long enough, anyway.

Zim sensed a tug at the base of his good antenna and bristled. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“Sorry, I was just removing this. It was peeling off,” Skoodge said. He held the ripped remnants of Dib’s communicator film in front of Zim’s face.

Zim snatched the film out of Skoodge’s hands so quickly that Skoodge yelped. He cupped the singed scrap of circuitry and plastic in his palms as though it were a living thing he needed to protect. It was so tiny and delicate… Zim was shocked that it had remained as intact as it had. His spooch twisted into knots as he continued to stare at the film.

“… Is everything OK?” Skoodge asked quietly.

Zim’s eyes watered. “It’s broken.”

“Yeah, but that’s alright. Dib can make another one, can’t he?” Skoodge said.

“But it won’t be _this_ one,” Zim said.

Skoodge shuffled his feet uncertainly. “Uh… no?”

“This one is broken forever. It can’t be fixed. And it’s _my fault._ ”

Skoodge reached forward to take the communicator, but Zim pulled it close to his chest. “Zim…”

Zim couldn’t stop his thoughts from ricocheting around his skull and out through his mouth. “Are you going to throw it out? If something can’t be fixed, we throw it away, right? And then it’s gone forever, and it doesn’t even matter.”

“I, uh, feel like we’re talking about something else but I’m not sure I understand,” Skoodge said.

Zim’s hand tightened around the communicator. “I ruined it. Like I ruined the station. And the Control Brains. And all of Irk. And…”

Dib’s pale face loomed in Zim’s mind. Zim’s arms ached from the memory of his dead weight, and the briny stink of human blood still clung to his antennae.

Zim jumped when he felt something settle on the bed next to him.

“It’s just me,” Skoodge said, his shoulder brushing against Zim’s as he sat by his side. “And… you didn’t ruin all of Irk.”

“I sent the Massive through a Florpus Hole. I killed my Tallests.”

Skoodge waffled his hand in the air. “Eh… That’s not technically true, quantum mechanically speaking.”

“Yeah, well, ‘quantum mechanically speaking,’ the Tallests are both dead and not dead as they’re torn apart across infinite dimensions for all eternity, so…”

“Good.”

Zim’s antenna hitched forward. “Eh?”

Skoodge straightened up and donned a stern expression. “Good. I’m glad they’re gone and that the Empire is dead. Now we have a chance to make something new.”

Dib had said something like that before. But then, so had Beep.

“She was building her own Control Brain,” Zim said abruptly.

“Huh? Oh, Beep was?”

Zim shuddered. “We need to go back and look for it. If she recovered it and escaped…”

“We’ll look for it,” Skoodge said. “But we have two dozen Irkens in the cargo bay that we need to get to safety first. The planet where I hid my ship should be a safe place to regroup. We’ll figure out next steps from there.”

Zim stared at Skoodge. “When did you get like this?”

Skoodge blinked at him, his features softening in confusion. “Like what?”

“I dunno, all…” A yawn interrupted Zim’s sentence and he lost track of what he was going to say.

“Do you want to rest for a while?” Skoodge asked.

The mere mention of rest weighed down Zim’s eyelids but he shook himself free from the call to sleep. He uncurled his claws from the communicator strip and inspected it again.

“Dib…” he started.

“I’ll wake you up if I hear anything,” Skoodge said.

A short nap would be nice. Just to help clear the fog of pain and exhaustion from his mind. Still, something about the destroyed communicator troubled Zim.

“Broken things… always result in more broken things,” he said, thumbing the film flat against his palm and watching it twist back up again.

Skoodge hummed. “You know… that ‘broken thing’ helped take down the whole Battle Zoo.”

Zim tensed, unsure of what Skoodge was getting at.

“Dib’s communicators did their job and kept you connected. Because of them, we freed the prisoners and interrupted whatever it is that Beep is doing.”

Zim sank down and leaned against Skoodge’s shoulder to ease the strain on his ribs and back. “But now they’re broken.”

“I think…” Skoodge paused to pick his words. “I think you’re thinking about ‘broken’ all wrong. Sometimes things we call broken are really just changed. Maybe the communicators aren’t communicators anymore. Maybe now they’re, um…”

“Mementos,” Zim said, and pictured the black feather he’d saved for Dib in his PAK.

Zim couldn’t see Skoodge’s face, but he heard the smile in his voice. “Yeah. Mementos. And they were helpful in the Zoo, but really, it was you and Dib who saved the day. You did a good job.”

Hot tears threatened to spill from Zim’s eyes. He bit his lip to keep quiet.

“Like, I wouldn’t be here, alive, if it weren’t for you and Dib. If you never went to the station, if you never got involved, I would be dead or dying in space right now. So. Thank you.”

“Zim… did a good job?”

 _Fuck,_ why hadn’t he stopped that from coming out? What was _wrong_ with him?

“Yeah, you did really good,” Skoodge said brightly.

Zim didn’t have the energy to stop the tears from flowing. He tried to turn his head to hide them but found that he’d leaned too far into Skoodge, his upper body now most of the way into the other Irken’s lap. He gave up and let himself fall the rest of the way onto Skoodge’s legs.

“It’s OK,” Skoodge said. “Just close your eyes for a little while. I’ll wake you up as soon as I hear something from Rek.”

Zim couldn’t find his voice, so he let himself cry softly into Skoodge’s shirt until much-needed sleep overtook him.

*****

Zim’s sobs died away as he drifted off, but Skoodge kept stroking Zim’s arm until he was positive the weary Irken was deeply asleep.

He got the gist of what Zim had been rambling about before, but there were some waters Zim navigated that had greater depth than Skoodge was prepared to sound. His PAK was bothering him, that much was clear. Dib’s injury also obviously weighed heavily on Zim, but Skoodge was confident Rek could handle that. Horrible as they were, intelligence operatives were trained to know the (literal) ins and outs of every species they dealt with. Having someone with that kind of training onboard was an extremely fortunate fluke. Without her… Well, Skoodge didn’t want to consider that alternative timeline.

And then there was Beep. He’d have to probe Zim for more information on her and the Control Brain she was supposedly building once Zim was capable of focusing on that conversation. Which he wouldn’t be, Skoodge understood, until Dib was well again.

It was strange. The last time Skoodge had seen Zim on Earth, Zim was still bound with maniacal dedication to conquering the planet. Most of the time, that meant defeating Dib, Earth’s sole protector. Something had changed between then and now. Something was _still_ changing.

Skoodge considered Zim’s comment. _When did you get like this?_ Guiltily, Skoodge wished Zim had been able to explain that a little more. Skoodge knew he’d changed over the past few years as well, but it hadn’t occurred to him that others might notice. He wondered what Zim saw when he looked at him.

All Skoodge had ever wanted was to be helpful. For most of his life, that meant doing whatever others asked of him with unquestioning enthusiasm. He’d blindly obeyed the Tallests until they attempted to murder him, and then he continued his pattern of obedience with Zim on Earth, trying desperately to help with whatever bizarre schemes Zim cooked up.

Zim flinched and whimpered in Skoodge’s lap, and Skoodge resumed petting him until his ragged breaths evened out again.

Maybe being helpful wasn’t as straightforward as Skoodge once believed. Zim hadn’t wanted to leave Dib’s side, but he’d needed to in order for Rek to do her job. Skoodge didn’t like coaxing Zim away or forcing him to stow his phone, but that was the kind of help Zim required.

Skoodge reflected on the prisoners that they’d freed, still baffled by how the majority had turned down safe passage in favor of taking their chances alone. He’d just been trying to do something good. Didn’t they know that? Didn’t they care?

When had everything become so complicated?

Skoodge’s PAK phone buzzed, interrupting his soliloquy. He answered the call in a whisper. “Hello?”

“Hello? Captain Skoodge?”

Captain… The title glimmered in his mind’s eye.

“Uh… you there?”

Skoodge snapped to attention. “Oh! Um, yes, hi. Rek?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Hi,” Rek grumbled. “The human-thing is stable, but he needs rest. Thought you’d like to know.”

“He’s going to be OK?” Skoodge asked.

“He should be. It’s a nasty laser wound, but it could have been worse. He’s got, like, a _ton_ of organs in his abdomen. Luckily, they’re all simple enough to work with. I’ll keep an eye on him, but I think we’re in the clear.”

The anxiety drained out of Skoodge’s body with a sigh. “Oh good. Thank you.”

“What about ‘Zoom’ or ‘Zim’ or whatever his name is? Want me to work on him? I don’t think he’s healing right.”

Skoodge looked down at Zim. “Yeah… That might be helpful.”

“If you bring him to the med bay, he’s not going to freak out again, right? Because I won’t hesitate to sedate him if he does,” Rek warned.

Skoodge nudged Zim, but the smaller Irken didn’t stir. Even with a firm shaking of his shoulder, Zim slept on, oblivious to the outside world. “I don’t think he’s going to be a problem.”

“Good. Bring him over and I’ll set his leg and make sure his spooch isn’t punctured or something. I’d like to check out his PAK, too. It seems like it might be damaged.”

Skoodge froze. Rek probably didn’t know what had happened to bring down the station. Nor did she know how close to the truth she was with her assessment of Zim’s situation. Skoodge placed his hand over Zim’s PAK and considered the excessive heat radiating from it. He reviewed his conversation with Zim about brokenness, about everything Zim had destroyed…

Sometimes, helping someone meant doing something that they needed, even if they didn’t want it.

“… You there?”

“Let’s wait on the PAK until he wakes up,” Skoodge said. “I think he should decide if he wants it looked at or not.”

Sometimes, Skoodge reasoned to himself, helping also meant letting his friends choose their own paths. Zim had trusted Skoodge to take care of Dib back in the arena. That was big. Maybe Zim could extend that trust a little further, for the sake of his own wellbeing.

“Are you sure?” Rek asked.

“I’m sure. We’ll be there in a minute.”

“OK. Oh! One more thing, Captain.”

There was that title again. It sounded… nice. “Yes?”

“Tenn told me what you and your team did. Crashing into the arena, shutting down the entire station… I don’t understand how you did it, but you did it. Thanks.”

Skoodge didn’t know what to say. Rek continued.

“I assumed I was going to die in there, so I did my best to earn a warrior’s death. It was nice to be cheered for one last time. I thought going out like that would honor Irk. But you’re not from the Empire, are you? Or at least, not anymore.”

“No, I’m not,” Skoodge confirmed.

“That’s fine by me. Look, I don’t know what happens next here. I don’t figure you’re carting us off to a death camp or anything, but…”

Skoodge’s antennae sprang up in alarm. “No! Nothing like that!”

“Relax, Cap. I was in intelligence, remember? I can read you, and you’re sincere to a fault. I’m not worried. All I’m saying is that I don’t know what happens next, but I’m grateful for what you did. You have a pretty good crew. Weird as shit, but pretty good.”

“Thanks,” said Skoodge.

“No problem,” Rek said. “Now hurry up and bring, uh…”

“Zim.”

“Right. Hurry up and bring Zim over. I’ve scraped things off my boots that looked healthier than he does.”

She hung up and Skoodge sat in silence for a few seconds.

Captain of a pretty good crew. That was a change he could get used to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Delivering unplanned Skoodge/Zim hurt/comfort since 2020.


	12. Chapter 12

A cat purred against Dib’s side, the vibrations low and consistent and soothing. So soothing, in fact, that it didn’t bother Dib that he didn’t own, nor had he ever owned, a cat. The sensation was warm and comforting, a mooring upon which his consciousness drifted, safely tethered to the world and yet also afloat in a sea of sleep.

An ache deep in his gut pulled Dib from the safe waters of slumber, and when he opened his eyes, a pair of blue lights greeted him.

“…GIR…?” Dib’s mouth felt full of sand. The act of speech twinged something in his stomach.

“Shhh!” said GIR, his hand in front of his mouth. “You’ll wake the baby!”

Even if Dib had all his wits about him, he wasn’t sure he could interpret that. “GIR, wha’s happenin’? Where’m I?”

GIR shook his head. “Nuh-uh, no talking. You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

Fine. Dib could figure this out for himself. He was lying on his back on some sort of stiff bed and GIR was sitting on a stool next to him. Without his glasses, the rest of the room was a dark blur. The blue glow of a large screen illuminated the immediate area, but when Dib craned his neck to inspect the screen, he couldn’t make out the symbols on it. He moved his arm, intending to prop himself up for a better look, but was stopped by a tube protruding from the soft skin of his inner elbow.

“… Hospital?” Dib mused aloud.

GIR stuck out his tongue and shrugged.

No. This wasn’t a hospital… Was this still the Battle Zoo? Memories poured back into his brain, out of order and incomplete. The shower of broken glass from the shattered dome… A strange SIR unit… The Champion Board flashing and going dark…

“I was shot,” Dib mumbled.

GIR nodded, but offered no additional details.

He hadn’t felt the laser hit him. His whole body had been electrified by adrenaline at the time. It was only when Zim had accosted him about the location of his injury that Dib started feeling it: a sharp, sprawling heat through his stomach, a numbness in his extremities…

Dib mentally reached toward that sensation, nervous of what he’d find now. The pain wasn’t as intense, but it was certainly present, sitting just below the surface. The rest of Dib’s body seemed heavy and distant, but the feeling wasn’t unpleasant. All things considered, Dib actually felt pretty alright. Probably thanks to some kind of alien painkiller.

Dib concentrated on his words, fighting off the fuzziness in his skull. “GIR, I need to know where I am.”

“Do you really neeeed to?”

“Please, GIR.”

GIR sighed melodramatically. “Oookay, but I’m not supposed to be talking to you because you’re supposed to be asleep, and if anybody wakes you up, my master says to destroy them.”

“OK, but where…?”

“Basement Man’s ship!” GIR whisper-shouted.

Skoodge’s cargo ship… That must mean they’d collected the prisoners and made it off the station. Everything seemed too quiet and calm here for anything to have gone _that_ awry.

“Where is everybody?” A more pressing question jumped to the front of Dib’s mind. “Where’s Zim?”

GIR shushed him again before pointing down the length of the bed. Moving slowly so as not to tug at his injury, Dib pushed himself up and discovered that the “cat” he thought he’d dreamt was in actuality his Irken shipmate. Zim curled against Dib’s hip on the opposite side of his wound, his eyes closed and his antennae completely relaxed. The purring sound Dib had detected before pulsed in time with Zim’s breathing.

“What is that? Is he snoring?” Dib whispered.

GIR shrugged.

“He’s… He’s OK, right?” Dib asked.

Weird purring aside, Zim looked much better than he had when Dib last saw him. A little color had returned to his skin, which was no longer smeared with blood and dirt. A few bandages peeked out from beneath his oversized shirt and some kind of brace straightened one of Zim’s legs, but at least he didn’t look as much like roadkill as before.

Dib started to reach toward him but stopped when he realized his free arm was in some kind of cast as well.

“Jeez, look at us,” he muttered, leaning back against a pillow. “A couple of disasters.”

Dib didn’t mean to fall back asleep. When he opened his eyes again, his thoughts were slightly crisper. He didn’t want to sleep through whatever was happening… Maybe they were safe for the time being, but there was _so_ much Dib needed to unpack and prepare for. Where was Skoodge taking them? Did he know about Beep? What all had transpired while Dib was busy just trying to stay alive?

Dib’s internal stream of questions was interrupted by a pair of familiar voices mid-argument somewhere to his right.

“But you said to destroy-”

“I know what I said, and frankly, I’m shocked you retained my orders, but I obviously didn’t mean you should destroy _me_ for waking him up! Not that it matters, because Zim didn’t wake the Dib-beast in the first place.”

“Oh yes you did!” GIR said from the floor, where he was playing with a selection of syringes.

Zim – sitting on a bench a few feet away – planted his fists on his hips. “I did no such thing. See? He’s completely…”

Dib grinned at Zim from the bed.

Zim blanched for a second, but then a broad smile spread across his face. “Dib!”

GIR scrambled out of the way of Zim’s PAK legs. Dib flattened himself as much as he could as Zim placed his metal limbs on either side of his bed and hovered over Dib’s body. Zim’s antennae – both functional now, though one moved a little slower than the other – danced over Dib’s arms and face as Dib shook his head, trying to evade.

“Zim! Personal space!” he reminded the alien, cringing at the strain of speaking. He felt like all of his insides had been scrambled by a giant eggbeater. Getting shot _sucked._

“I’m assessing your condition!” Zim said, but he backed off a little bit.

“I imagine that’s what the giant monitors are for,” Dib said, gesturing limply with his good arm.

“They’re not Irken-made. They’re liable to be faulty.”

Dib scoffed. “And you think… _sniffing_ me or whatever you’re doing is going to be more accurate?”

Zim sneered at Dib and pulled away, setting himself down on the stool GIR had been in earlier. He made a haughty attempt to cross one leg over the other, a move which he couldn’t pull off thanks to his leg brace. He settled for crossing his arms and tossing his head. “My antennae are extremely sensitive and versatile appendages. They can detect far more than scent.”

“Like what?”

“It doesn’t matter. You seem to be fine.” Zim eyed Dib for a beat. “Ish.”

“Ish?” Dib tried to sit up but his body protested immediately. He groaned and sank back down. “Yeah, I feel pretty ‘ish,’ now that you mention it. What happened?”

“You wrestled a robot and lost.”

“OK, no, I remember that, and also specifically the fact that I _didn’t_ lose,” Dib said.

“You call _this-_ ” Zim paused to point at the various machines monitoring Dib’s status. “- winning?”

“I call it surviving!” Dib sucked in a sharp breath of air, regretting his raised voice. “God, Zim… I saved Skoodge, didn’t I?”

The hard lines in Zim’s face melted. “Yes. You did. You were integral to the success of the mission.”

Dib had been gearing up for an argument, but the solemn look in Zim’s eyes left him speechless.

Zim turned away to watch GIR roll around on the floor as he continued. “You gave Skoodge the chance to connect my PAK to the Champion Board and spread its corruption through the station. Skoodge and Tenn freed the Irken prisoners, 24 of whom agreed to come with us. We’re due to touch down on an abandoned planet that Skoodge has been using as a salvage yard any minute now. We can restock on supplies there and the prisoners can decide what they want to do with themselves now that they’re free.”

“But… There were nearly 150 Irkens in the prisoner database,” Dib said, dread pooling in his stomach. “What happened to all the others?”

“They found other ways off the station,” Zim said, returning his attention to Dib. “I told you they weren’t all going to be grateful for our interference. I’m sure most of them fled back to Irk, where the Resisty will be waiting for them.”

A lump formed in Dib’s throat. “Will the Resisty kill them?”

“I don’t know. Probably.”

Dib twisted a bedsheet between his fingers, a nauseating sensation of guilt churning within him. Had he just sent the very people he’d intended to save to their deaths?

Zim gently pulled the sheet out of Dib’s hand. “You wanted to give them a second chance, remember?”

“Yeah,” Dib said, but the guilt still tugged at him.

“You can give people as many opportunities to change as you want. That doesn’t mean they’ll take those opportunities,” Zim said.

Dib smirked. “Either that’s the wisest thing you’ve ever said, or these alien painkillers are sending me on some sort of spiritual journey of enlightenment.”

Zim bared his teeth at Dib, but the playful twinkle in his eyes gave him away. “Zim says many wise things. _You_ just don’t listen.”

“I’ll try to listen more, then,” Dib said.

Zim’s antennae perked. “Good. And… for what it’s worth, you weren’t… _completely_ wrong about what would happen when we broke the prisoners out. We gave them a choice, and 16.44% of the prisoners decided to come with us instead of slaughtering us and running back to Irk. Which is a solid 16.44% more than I expected. Who knows what will happen next, however. They could still mutiny.”

“I have a feeling they would have done that already if they wanted to,” Dib said.

Zim nodded thoughtfully. “One of them even treated your injuries.”

“What?” The news stunned Dib. He’d assumed Zim had been the one to stitch him up, based on his vague memories of being carried to the Voot and placed in the repair pod. Something had obviously happened between then and now, but still…

“You’d even recognize her,” Zim said, expression unreadable. “Rek.”

“Holy shit… Her profile said she had medical training, but…” Dib shook his head in disbelief. “You… You let her work on me?”

A purplish blush colored Zim’s face. “I didn’t want to. I tried to fix you myself, but I was too…”

“No, it’s OK,” Dib interrupted. “You did the right thing. I’m just… surprised that you let someone help.”

Zim cleared his throat. “Yes. Well. Opportunities to change and all that.”

Dib stared at Zim, who distracted himself by picking at a bandage on his wrist. The last time they’d had an actual conversation was when Dib had been hiding out in the bathroom after Zim defeated Rek. Dib reflected on the hurtful things Zim had said while trying to explain his relationship with his PAK. They’d both been so caught up in dissecting what was “real”… Dib more so, perhaps, than Zim. But looking at Zim now, remembering the thrum of Zim’s heart when Dib had been bleeding out against his chest… The soft rumble of Zim’s purr when he thought Dib was asleep… All that felt real. Maybe Dib couldn’t understand all the details, and maybe Zim was still piecing together his own truth, but for now, Dib didn’t feel the need to worry about whether their relationship was based on a line of faulty PAK coding.

What they shared was bigger than that.

Both Dib and Zim started at the sound of the ship’s engines kicking into a higher gear.

“We must be landing,” Zim said. He placed a claw on the bed near Dib’s hand.

A strange impulse directed Dib to put his hand over Zim’s, but he resisted it. They’d just been physically apart for so long in the Battle Zoo. Less than a day, Dib suddenly realized, but the distance had seemed so vast. Which was why he craved Zim’s proximity now, Dib told himself.

After a few minutes of rumbling, the ship jolted to a stop. The bump wasn’t particularly violent, but it still tweaked Dib’s wound. He grunted in discomfort and squeezed his eyes shut until the sensation softened.

“Dib?”

Zim’s hand closed over Dib’s wrist, causing a tingle of electricity to rush up Dib’s arm.

“Sorry,” Dib gasped, pulling his arm away from Zim. “The landing just hurt a little bit. I’m fine.”

Zim’s antennae wilted. “Oh. Should I increase the painkillers?”

Dib shook his head. He didn’t want his brain to feel any fuzzier than it already was. He could tough it out a little longer.

The sliding doors of the med bay parted with a soft hydraulic whoosh, allowing the sturdy, red-eyed Irken Dib recognized as Rek to enter.

“I told you to leave the human alone and stay on your bench,” she immediately said to Zim. She snapped her fingers and pointed across the room.

GIR made a long “oooo” sound, as if he were a schoolchild watching a peer being reprimanded.

“It’s alright,” Dib said on Zim’s behalf. “I wanted him over here.”

Rek placed her hand over her chest in exaggerated offense. “Oh? Are you a medical expert as well? Do you have medical opinions you’d like to share?”

“Sheesh, I’ll move,” Zim growled, and allowed GIR to help him back to the bench, not yet willing to put his full weight on his braced leg.

“Thank you,” Rek said blandly as she crossed to Dib’s bedside. Her finger traced across a screen over Dib’s head and she inspected the peculiar symbols for a few seconds before speaking again. “Hm. You’re more resilient than I first thought. You’ll still need to be confined to the med bay for a few days. Between your laser wound and forearm fracture, no strenuous activities or lifting anything over 10 pounds for a few weeks after that. Your body is responding well to the organic-regrowth accelerators, but I’d rather not push it. Especially when you have such an irresponsible number of organs to consider.”

“Irresponsible…? It’s not exactly my fault that humans have more than one internal organ,” Dib said.

Rek spread her hands. “It just seems excessive, that’s all. Anyway. You eat things, correct?”

Dib didn’t know there were Irkens in the universe that were even more frustrating to interact with than Zim. “Yes. I eat things.”

“Captain Skoodge says he has a store of rations here that should be compatible with your biology.”

“And where is ‘here’?” Dib asked. Now that food had been brought up, he noticed the clawing hunger in his stomach. When had he last eaten? Or had something to drink? His throat was so dry…

“A planet called Oobli A. One of the last planets the Armada completed an Organic Sweep on before the Massive disappeared. Mostly a wasteland now,” Rek explained as she adjusted something on the machine connected to Dib’s arm.

“And we haven’t been followed?” Zim asked.

Rek faced Zim. “You’re really hung up on that, aren’t you? No, we haven’t been followed. It’s been dead space all the way from the Battle Zoo to here. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to retrieve food for the human.”

“The human has a name, you know,” Dib said.

“Dib. I know, thanks to someone’s pathetic wailing,” Rek said.

Zim sputtered, his cheeks glowing purple. “Hey! Zim was- OK, listen-”

“Don’t care,” Rek said as she gave Dib one more look-over. “I’ll be back in a few.”

She’d almost reached the door when her antennae bounced up. “Nearly forgot. Zim?”

“Yes?” Zim answered warily.

“Do you remember what we talked about? Have you given it any consideration?”

Dib watched Zim closely, searching for context. The purple had faded from Zim’s face, making way for a stoic, guarded expression.

“Later,” Zim said quietly.

Rek glanced over her shoulder at Dib, then back to Zim. “Later,” she confirmed, and left the med bay.

Dib waited for a few seconds before prompting him. “Zim…”

Zim craned his head to check that Rek was out of view of the windows before he climbed off the bench and used his PAK limbs to reach Dib’s bedside stool again. His eyes traveled over the monitors as though he were reviewing Rek’s work.

Dib pressed on. “What was she talking about?”

Zim’s eyes shifted down to meet Dib’s. They were liquid and bright, and as they flickered over Dib’s face, Dib imagined he could see through their magenta depths and into Zim’s mind. Was Zim coming up with a lie or was he making a decision? After everything they’d just been through, didn’t Dib deserve some transparency?

“She wants to look at my PAK,” Zim said quickly.

“And… are you going to let her?” Dib asked, determined to maintain a poker face.

Zim swallowed. “I haven’t decided yet.”

GIR clacked some syringes together on the ground, playing with them as if they were action figures. Dib pretended to watch GIR in an attempt to look casual. He didn’t want to spook Zim. Not when they were finally sharing a moment of peace. “Does Rek know how the station was taken down?”

“No. I don’t think so. She thinks that I’m…” Zim chewed his lip. “…That my PAK isn’t healing me as quickly as it should be. She might be correct.”

Dib thought of the last time he’d seen Rek, back when she was trying to pulverize Zim with her hammer extensions in the arena. Her body had to have been mangled by that rock tower, and yet here she was, however many hours later, completely whole again, with the only evidence of her injury being a slight limp.

Zim angled his broken leg away from Dib, who had accidentally been staring at it as he calculated the time that had passed between Zim’s and Rek’s injuries.

“Would that have to do with the corruption?” Dib asked as nonchalantly as he could.

“Unclear,” Zim said. He lifted his chin, summoning an aura of confidence. “In all likelihood, my PAK is merely fatigued and will recharge itself with a little more rest.”

Dib knew he was walking on eggshells, but he had to keep going. If something was wrong with Zim’s PAK, something that could be repaired, then Dib wanted to know about it. “OK… But shouldn’t we check? Just to be safe?”

Zim fussed over the too-long sleeves of the undershirt he was wearing. “Hm. Are you concerned for Zim, Dib-stink?”

“What? I mean, of course I’m concerned,” Dib said. Where was Zim going with this? “I care about you. I want you to be OK.”

Dib couldn’t be sure, but he thought he heard a soft, cricket-like chirp before Zim spoke again. “In that case, to put you at ease, I will allow Rek to run her diagnostics on my PAK.”

Dib knew better than to confront Zim’s obvious displacement of his own anxiety, so he went for sincerity instead. “Thanks, Zim.”

Zim waved off his gratitude. “You’ve undergone enough stress. Causing you additional worry might inhibit your healing, and I need you to heal quickly so we can recover the Voot and repair it.”

Dib’s eyebrows lifted. “You think it’s recoverable?”

“I see no reason why we can’t retrieve it from the arena and rebuild it,” Zim said. “We’ll need to go back anyway.”

“To look for Beep?”

Zim’s shoulders jumped, but his tone remained level. “I’m sure Beep is long gone, but if she left anything behind…”

A thrill swirled through Dib’s chest. “You want to go after her, don’t you?” he said with a lopsided grin.

“Zim doesn’t _want_ to go after that irkicidal maniac, but the fact that she built her own Control Brain is… worrisome,” Zim clarified.

Dib chuckled, but stopped before the action aggravated his wounds.

Zim narrowed his eyes at him. “What are you so chipper about?”

“I don’t know, man, I just…” A lightbulb flickered on in Dib’s brain. “Oh my god. I think I missed having an antagonist. I haven’t felt like this since…”

“Don’t you dare compare her to me,” Zim warned. “I am the superior antagonist.”

“What, are you jealous or something?”

“Pfft. Of course not.”

“Really? Because she’s a pretty good rival, you know? She put us in mortal danger, after all,” Dib said, reveling in the irritation building up in Zim’s eyes.

“Zim has put you in mortal danger plenty of times!”

“Yeah, but your robot’s never even shot me,” Dib countered.

GIR jumped to attention. “Ooo! Ooo! I can shoot you now, if you want!”

Dib and Zim yelled over each other to deescalate the situation as GIR’s arsenal sprang out of his head. With his metal lip jutted out in disappointment, GIR retracted his weapons and flopped onto the floor again.

Dib’s laughter spilled out of him, carrying with it all the tension and fear that had accumulated in his ribcage. He didn’t care that it hurt. He needed the giddy rush of it, the confirmation that he was here and alive and capable of experiencing joy, despite everything that loomed on the horizon.

Zim laughed too, starting with a low snicker before exploding into the mania that Dib knew so well. The alien threw his head back, cackling until he began to tip off of his stool. Instinctively, Dib threw out his arm – careless of the IV in it – to catch him. Zim squawked as Dib pulled him into the safety of his bed.

“Careful, Stinky! You’ll hurt yourself!” Zim reprimanded, but he didn’t resist as Dib adjusted him against his chest.

Dib couldn’t stop giggling for long enough to form words, which clearly amused Zim, who resumed laughing alongside him. GIR’s high-pitched titters joined the discordant chorus, which only made Zim and Dib laugh harder. Dib barely heard the woosh of the sliding door above the cacophony.

“Maybe it’s not too late for me to go back to the Battle Zoo. At least it’s probably quiet over there by now,” Rek commented gruffly as she set down a tray loaded with an assortment of jars and packages.

The collective fit of laughter subsided. “Sorry, Rek,” Dib managed, wiping a tear from his jawline with his shoulder.

Rek’s eyes flicked between Dib and Zim, who were still snuggled together on the bed. Dib suddenly felt self-conscious. “I trust the two of you can figure out which of these are safe for the human to eat. I need to speak with the captain about something. Call me if he has an anaphylactic reaction.”

She left it at that, shaking her head as the doors closed behind her.

“Shit, have I thanked her? I should have thanked her,” Dib said.

“Meh. She broke my ribs, she fixed you up. Fair exchange,” Zim said as he pulled away from Dib’s embrace and deployed his metal limbs.

“You smashed her with a giant rock,” Dib reminded him, ignoring how cold the rigid medical bed felt without Zim in it.

“And then we rescued her. It all balances out in the end,” Zim said. “Now, let’s see here… Which of these is least likely to poison you…”

As Zim and GIR pawed through the various rations Rek had dropped off, Dib’s mind was drawn to Zim’s PAK. A spider of anxiety began spinning its web around Dib’s heart again. He placated himself with the idea that if something were truly wrong with the PAK, then there had to be some kind of solution. There were _always_ solutions. If his father had taught him nothing else, it was that science had an answer for every problem.

So Dib set his worry aside for the time being. For now, he was content to rest in the company of his truest and strangest friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear. The author has fallen in love with the ZADR...
> 
> Anyhoo! Home stretch now for this particular story (and I'm already so excited about the parts that will follow!). 
> 
> Much love, and stay safe!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "While collecting the stars, I connected the dots.  
> I don't know who I am, but now I know who I'm not..."

Keeping track of time inside the med bay was difficult, even with Dib’s TransDibber. Units of time varied so widely from planet to planet and culture to culture that his “watch” barely even counted as a watch. Still, Dib estimated that at least five Earth days had passed since he’d been confined to the bed, and it was driving him out of his mind.

At least Zim and GIR were around to distract him. GIR reenacted entire seasons of his favorite Earth TV shows using only medical supplies, and Dib had to admit that his performances were uncanny. Zim spent most of his time complaining about the various Irkens they’d rescued, even though he’d only sparingly interacted with them. Most of the time, Zim was in the med bay, tinkering with stolen pieces of tech or ranting to Dib about anything that popped into his head.

Sometimes, when the med bay lights were low in simulation of night, Dib would awaken to Zim’s soft purrs and warm skin against his body. He was always gone when the lights lifted again.

Skoodge visited periodically, as cheerful and mild as ever, bearing news of the outside world. The planet Oobli A was devoid of sapient inhabitants, as Rek had said, but held plenty of relics of its previous society. Skoodge described abandoned cities and farmlands that had been reclaimed by wild plants and the small creatures that had somehow survived the Organic Sweep. Dib ached to see that world.

Finally, Rek cleared him to do so. She required that he spend most of his time in a hovering chair, but that was far better than being stuck in a bed all day. Despite Rek’s brusque and tactless demeanor, she at least was straightforward in her conversations with Dib. She even cracked the occasional joke, and seemed to be pleased when Dib reacted to her humor. He was sometimes tempted to ask her about her past, particularly regarding the details of her re-encoding, but he sensed they weren’t there yet. He’d befriended at least two Irkens, though. With time, Dib was sure he could crack Rek’s shell too.

Zim escorted Dib through the cargo hold, rambling about Tenn’s choice of crew for a scouting mission back to the Battle Zoo. Zim had debriefed them on everything he and Dib had discovered about Beep’s scheme, but he still worried about whether the other Irkens would be thorough enough in their search. They’d departed the day before and were due to arrive at the station within a couple hours.

“It will be too late, of course,” Zim growled as he marched along in front of Dib’s chair. His gait was a bit uneven, but Dib was relieved that his leg had healed enough for Zim to walk on it again. “Beep is clearly a highly organized individual. She had to be in order to serve as a Control Brain engineer, after all. She’ll have wiped the place clean by now.”

“Don’t be so pessimistic. I think what happened with her SIR flustered her. She probably prioritized getting him and her Control Brain off of the station and then got as far away as possible. If she’s as smart as she seems, she’ll know better than to return to the scene of the crime,” Dib said.

“But she’ll want to hide evidence. If I were her, I’d blow the whole station up before anyone could investigate.”

Dib grinned. “For once, blowing everything up probably makes sense. But she can’t risk hanging around there, Zim. She’s got too much to lose if she gets caught.”

“It could be rigged to explode,” Zim continued, scratching his chin in anxious contemplation.

“I guess, but that would require a LOT of explosives. Besides, we already took the whole station down. Anything digital on the Battle Zoo has been rendered inert. Even if Beep programmed the place to blow if it was compromised, it probably wouldn’t be able to now,” Dib reasoned.

Zim paused in front of a massive door. “Hm. I wish I could have gone with them.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you stayed with me instead.”

Zim’s antennae straightened and he pressed his hand to a panel by the door, opening it. “I’m glad too,” he said, his voice almost drowned out by the whirring of the door’s mechanism.

Bright light blinded Dib for a few seconds as the door lifted. He shaded his eyes with his hand and squinted into the golden sunlight until the landscape beyond the ship started to take form.

At first blush, Oobli A looked a lot like Earth.

A plain of blue-green grass sprawled before Dib, dotted by clusters of small, pink-blossomed trees. Far in the distance, a whitecapped mountain range rose beneath a pale blue sky. Dib felt like he was entering a Bob Ross painting as his chair floated down the cargo ramp.

“I thought you said this place was a wasteland!” Dib exclaimed as Zim led the way toward a row of makeshift tents and lean-tos.

“Eh? That’s because it _is_ a wasteland,” Zim said over his shoulder. “Look at that… The vegetation has swallowed the city that once stood here.”

Zim pointed across the field toward a geometric shape that protruded from the grass. Part of a building, Dib supposed, which was now overtaken by a tangle of vines and flowers that resembled morning glories.

“We’re technically on the outskirts of whatever metropolis used to exist here, but still. Wasted space,” Zim said. “Deeper into the city, there’s plenty to salvage. Out here, just a bunch of useless plants.”

Dib rolled his eyes. Of course Zim wouldn’t appreciate the natural landscape. Maybe he didn’t even recognize how similar the terrain was to Earth. It didn’t matter. At least Dib could enjoy the scenery, and the sweetness of fresh air, and the subtle warmth of the sunlight.

“It may look like a wasteland to you, but I still want to check it out,” Dib said, and drew another deep breath of pure, unrecycled oxygen.

“In a minute, Dib-beast. There’s something I need to show you first.”

Dib motored along behind Zim and watched the Irkens who milled around the haphazard shelters they’d built next to Skoodge’s blocky ship. Many of them were hunched over eclectic pieces of technology, soldering components onto the rusted objects they must have reclaimed from the former city. Leave it to a bunch of Irkens to be surrounded by beautiful wilderness and to focus their efforts instead on Frankensteining bits of abandoned tech. Still, Dib couldn’t help but be curious about their various projects.

“Here we are!” Zim announced triumphantly.

A janky, two-man space cruiser sat on crumbling concrete blocks in from of them. Its round shape reminded Dib of the original Voot, but he got the impression that it wasn’t Irken-made. The ship was composed of mismatched metal panels, and a series of wide welding tracks scarred its hull.

“Uh… Is it space-worthy?” Dib asked.

“Of course it’s space-worthy. I assembled it myself,” Zim snapped, obviously irritated by Dib’s lack of enthusiasm.

“And I helped!” GIR exclaimed, popping out from behind the ship.

“When did you have the time?”

“I worked while you slept,” Zim said. “And most of the ship was intact when I found it, anyway. It’s just a temporary vessel until we can retrieve and repair the Voot. I suspect some critical components of the Voot will need to be replaced, and we’ll likely have to travel off-world to get those parts.”

Dib maneuvered his chair around the ship until he could see the crooked silhouettes of old buildings on the horizon. “What about the city? You don’t think we could find parts for the Voot from there?”

Zim gasped, offended. “Scrap parts? On Zim’s cruiser??”

“You had to use Earth materials to expand it, remember?” Dib said.

“But you helped manufacture some of those.”

Dib brought his chair back around to Zim. “I can do that again here.”

“Not without Membrane Labs,” Zim said.

Dib had to give him that one. Without a proper lab to work in, Dib couldn’t contribute much. Even Zim, for all the knowledge and tools in his PAK, had clearly struggled to construct this launch-disaster-to-be.

Down the row of tents, a few other Irkens toiled away on their own junk-ships. Dib wondered where they intended to go.

“There is a planet not far from here that should have acceptable parts for sale. We just need to pick up the Voot and determine what repairs are required first,” Zim said as he tapped inquisitively at one of the ship’s many dents.

“I guess that depends on what Tenn’s team finds at the Battle Zoo,” Dib said.

Zim grunted, not looking at Dib. His expression was pensive as he stared up at his hodgepodge vessel.

“It looks good, Zim. All things considered,” Dib assured him.

Zim turned toward Dib, a rare softness to his features. How could those large, pupil-less eyes be so rich, so expressive? The corner of Zim’s mouth turned up in a sweet smirk, which immediately made Dib suspicious.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing,” Zim chirped, his grin curling even further. “Hey, remember when you were a chair?”

“Zim, you little shit…”

Dib charged him with the chair, causing Zim to break into wild giggles as he evaded. The hover chair moved quite slowly, but both the human and the Irken knew they were merely playing a game together. Eventually, Zim hoisted himself up on his PAK legs, dancing around Dib’s whirring and twirling chair until Dib’s head felt like it was spinning.

“Hey. Idiots.”

“Eh?” Zim twisted his head toward the voice and lost his balance. He shrieked in surprise as he toppled over into the soft grass.

Dib’s instinct was to reach out to help him up, but the chair prohibited that. Zim stood on his own, grimacing at the grass-stains on his borrowed pink shirt.

Rek chuckled dryly. “You people are so, so weird.”

“Ain’t it great?!” GIR screamed from the top of the ship, which he sat astride like a cowboy on a bronco’s back.

Rek smiled and rolled her eyes. “Right. I’m here for Zim. Have a minute?”

Zim flicked a bit of turf off his shoulder. “Yes, but only a minute. The Dib wants to look at _nature._ ”

“Ugh, just go. I’ll be here,” Dib said.

Zim waved farewell and followed Rek back toward the cargo ship. Dib turned his attention toward Zim’s creation. Maybe he didn’t have a lab, but he could still give the thing a look-over. With GIR’s assistance, Dib unbolted a piece of paneling by one of the engines and spent a while digging around inside it, searching for anything that looked in need of improvement. Zim had done good work with what he had, but the wiring looked corroded. It would last for a few short trips, but longer hauls would be dangerous. Hopefully, the planet Zim mentioned wasn’t a far trek.

When Dib finally remembered to check the time, he discovered an hour had passed. Still no sign of Zim.

Dib wasn’t a fool. He knew damn well why Rek might pull Zim aside and spend an hour with him. She was probably inspecting Zim’s PAK right now, which Dib understood could take some time. Still… an hour?

Dib continued his inspection of the vessel for a while longer, until the sun started beating down on him with a fresh intensity. He wiped the sweat away from his eyes and GIR mimicked his movement.

“You hot too, buddy?”

GIR nodded gleefully.

“OK. We’ll go inside. Tenn should be making her transmission soon,” Dib said. “Let me just call Zim first.”

Zim didn’t answer his communicator, but if Dib’s suspicions were true, then he probably couldn’t even if he wanted to. He’d figure it out when he returned to the cruiser and found Dib missing, Dib supposed. The spiderweb of apprehension tightened around Dib’s heart, but there was nothing he could do about it. He just had to wait.

Dib and GIR returned to the larger ship. After a few wrong turns, they eventually arrived at the cockpit, which had the shape of the _Enterprise’s_ bridge but the aesthetics of a garbage truck. Several control stations divided the wide room, with an iconic captain’s seat dead center. A broad windshield wrapped across the front of the space. Through it, Dib could see the idyllic Oobli A landscape.

Skoodge stood in front of the captain’s chair with a tablet in his hand and a pinched expression.

“Everything OK?” Dib asked as he piloted his chair next to Skoodge.

“Dib! You’re looking well,” Skoodge beamed, his aura of anxiety dissipating. “Everything’s fine… Just waiting on Tenn’s broadcast to connect. Where’s Zim?”

“With Rek.”

Skoodge nodded knowingly as the windshield darkened and transformed into a screen on which Tenn’s face appeared.

It was as they’d all anticipated. The Battle Zoo was completely dark, all pieces of technology deadened, including the self-sealing dome. Fortunately, the force of the Voot’s impact with the arena floor left its hull stuck there like a lawn dart, even as pieces of it drifted off into the void. A hull was better than nothing, but Dib couldn’t help but worry over the belongings he’d left inside the ship, which had surely floated off by now.

The Voot wasn’t the priority, however. Tenn noted that the station had already been picked over by scavengers and pirates, leaving little of value behind. Worse, the control booth above the Champion Board was destroyed, as were the innards of the Board itself. No clues, nothing retrievable… Just fried tech, like Zim had predicted.

Beep had burned her way out. She’d taken her Control Brain and erased her presence from the station. She could be anywhere in the galaxy by now, depending on what ship she’d commandeered to escape.

The only good news as far as Dib was concerned was that Tenn could tow the Voot into orbit around Oobli A, at which point the cargo ship could capture it in its bay and bring it to the planet’s surface.

There was so much to do… The Voot had to be repaired, which apparently required venturing to another planet for materials. What cred did they even have left for those supplies? Zim handled most of the finances, considering he was the most familiar with cosmic currencies, but Dib knew they were living on a tight budget.

And what about Beep? Was it worth it to return to the wreck of the Battle Zoo and scour it for more information, despite Tenn’s assertion that no traces had been left behind? Was it even possible to track her? If by some miracle Dib and Zim _could_ catch up to Beep, what exactly did they intend to do? Kill her? Destroy the Control Brain? Beep’s plan to resurrect the Irken Empire in her own image was a dangerous one, sure, but was it even feasible? Maybe she wasn’t even a real threat. Maybe dealing with her was the responsibility of some kind of galactic authority, not a naïve runaway from Earth and a defective ex-invader.

But Dib had never trusted authority. The “authorities” in his life had all let him down, failed to see the truth no matter how much evidence Dib gathered. Once again, Dib Membrane would have to defend the world – the _galaxy_ – from a menace no one else even acknowledged.

And for some reason, he was smiling about it.

Tenn’s broadcast ended and the screen faded back into a window. Dib cursed himself for zoning out during the last parts of it, but it looked like Skoodge had remained on task. He scribbled something onto his tablet, then chewed the end of his stylus, lost in thought.

“So… What do you think?” Dib asked as Skoodge climbed into the captain’s chair. The Irken was dwarfed by the seat, and yet he looked somehow natural in it.

“I think it’s a dead end,” Skoodge said, frowning. “I’m sorry, Dib. They’re going to do one more lap of the place, but it’s not looking good.”

“That’s OK. We’ll come up with something,” Dib said, and actually believed it.

Behind him, the bridge door hissed open. Zim hurried into the room in front of Rek and took his place next to Dib and GIR. He looked relaxed enough… At least, as relaxed as Zim ever was. That felt like good news.

“Did I miss it?” Zim asked, scanning around for a hidden screen.

“Yeah… But they haven’t found much. Tenn’s going to bring the Voot back. Other than that, _nada_ ,” Dib said.

Zim’s posture sagged.

“Hey, don’t worry. I was just telling Skoodge that we can still figure this out,” Dib said. “It’s a big universe, but she can’t just disappear. Especially not with an entire Control Brain. All we have to do is get in her head and think about where we would go next if we were in her shoes.”

“You’re being disgustingly optimistic about this,” Zim said.

Dib shrugged. “I like a good challenge, that’s all.”

“Hm.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dib watched as Zim stared through the windshield. A crease marked Zim’s forehead, a clue that his mind was somewhere else. He was being too quiet, too still.

“So, uh… What did you and Rek talk about?” Dib finally asked, pretending to be interested in a hangnail on his thumb to diffuse the tension.

Zim’s antennae twitched, and Dib suspected he was sensing the room for any eavesdroppers. When he spoke, his voice was calm and light. “Rek looked at the corruption in my PAK.”

“I’m not a PAK technician, mind you,” Rek cut in. “I’m mostly familiar with the parts of the PAK that have to do with its life support functions.”

“Yes yes,” Zim said hastily, brushing Rek aside. “A component must be replaced in order to prevent further corruption. Now that the Irken Empire isn’t a threat, accessing PAK parts should be much easier than it used to be. All we need to do is find the part and install it.”

Rek took a step forward and locked eyes with Dib. “Which I would highly recommend you entrust to an _actual_ PAK technician, or at least a real medical drone.”

“Oh,” said Dib. “Is finding a technician going to be an issue?”

Rek opened her mouth but Zim held up his hand and spoke ahead of her. “Not at all! There’s a whole planet full of them. PAKs are designed and manufactured on Machinus. We can find the part and a technician to install it in one stop.”

“OK, great,” Dib said, keeping his tone upbeat even as he suppressed his uncertainty. “And where _is_ Machinus?”

“In the primary Irken solar system,” Rek said, speaking quickly in case Zim interrupted her again. “Only a couple planets out from Irk itself.”

Dib’s unease grew. Judging by the nervous hum Skoodge made from the captain’s chair, he shared in Dib’s suspicions.

“What about the Resisty?” Dib said.

“What about them?” Zim asked, cocking his head to the side. GIR aligned himself with his master and imitated his head-tilt.

“Don’t you think they’ll have Machinus under lockdown or something? It won’t be under Irken control anymore,” Dib said.

“Perhaps. That’s why we’ll need to repair the Voot Cruiser first. It will be another stealth mission.”

 _Yeah, since that worked so well last time,_ Dib thought, but stopped himself from voicing his concern.

“There are also black markets,” Skoodge said.

Dib rotated his chair to face Skoodge. He hadn’t expected such a suggestion from him, but Skoodge _had_ been the one who’d spent the past few years roaming around the galaxy, freeing Irkens and having untold adventures. Maybe he knew of a safer alternative than storming directly into Irken territory.

Skoodge’s claws picked at the arm rests of his seat as continued. “I’ve noticed a number of PAK parts for sale among certain traders. I don’t like to think about how they got them, but… Well, it’s an idea, anyway.”

“Any chance we could find a PAK technician somewhere other than Machinus?” Dib asked.

“Some may have fled outside of the Irken system during the revolution. They’re likely in hiding… It would be a stretch,” Skoodge said.

Rek sighed. “Look… I modified my own PAK. Worst comes to worst, I have the basic skills to do the installation. My concern is the location of the part within the PAK. We’d be working very close to the spinal ports, which is probably where the corruption started in the first place. A lot can go wrong there.”

Dib looked to Zim for some kind of reaction, but Zim seemed nonplussed by Rek’s words. In fact, he appeared bored as he lazily polished a smudge off of GIR’s forehead with his thumb. It didn’t feel right. The Zim Dib knew would melt down over someone discussing the problems with his PAK in such a cavalier manner. Allowing Rek to inspect it was one thing, but not saying anything as she described the damage out loud?

“Zim… Are you OK?” Dib asked.

Zim blinked innocently at Dib. “Hm? Of course Zim is OK.”

“Yeah, but… Did you figure out why you’re healing slowly?”

“Not _slowly,_ ” Zim said with a reassuring measure of venom in his voice. “ _Slower,_ perhaps. Yes. It’s connected to the corruption, which is why I’d like to get this issue fixed as soon as possible. First we deal with the Voot. Then we investigate one of Skoodge’s markets. Going to Machinus directly may indeed be too risky. REGARDLESS. We can make no further progress until the Voot is operational.”

So long as Zim was behaving rationally, Dib decided to press his luck. “Is the corruption spreading? Will it get worse?”

Zim returned to polishing GIR’s head. “… Yes, it’s spreading. But the progress is gradual. In all likelihood, it’s been going on for years, and it’s only now causing trouble. Very _mild_ trouble at that. You don’t need to worry about it.”

“But I _do_ worry.”

“Dib.” Zim finally met Dib’s eyes again, his expression tranquil and serious. “Worrying will do nothing. Zim is fine. We have a solution to the problem. We merely need to repair a damaged machine.”

Dib felt queasy. All this time, Zim had been equating his PAK with himself. It wasn’t like him to simply call it a machine to be repaired.

“Trust me,” Zim said. “Please.”

 _Shit._ Zim was testing Dib. He’d trusted Dib with his life in the Battle Zoo, and now he was calling in the favor.

Dib relented. “Fine, Zim. OK. But can we talk about it a little more? Later?”

Zim nodded curtly before licking one of his claws and using it to rub another scuff off of GIR’s cheek.

“It’s going to _have_ to be later, because the human needs to rest for a while,” Rek said, planting herself between Dib and Zim. “You’ve been up for too long. Go back to the med bay and get a couple hours of sleep before you undo all my hard work.”

Dib tightened his hands around the chair controls, debating on whether to argue with her or not. A flash of her red eyes, and Dib surrendered. “Yeah, yeah, I’m going. But someone better wake me up for the sunset. This planet has sunsets, right?”

Zim perked up. “I’ll come get you so you can see your sunset, Ugly,” he taunted.

“Good. You better,” Dib said.

“Are we nappin’?” GIR asked eagerly, already climbing into Dib’s lap. “I’m coming too!”

“Alright, but no eating cotton swabs this time,” Dib said.

“What about-”

“Or gauze. Or _any_ medical supply. Can you do that?”

GIR groaned and stretched across Dib’s legs. “Fiiiiiiiine.”

Dib reluctantly steered his chair out of the bridge, well aware that a conversation was about to happen without him, but trying to have faith that Zim would fill him in later.

*****

A few seconds after the bridge door sealed behind Dib, Zim feigned checking the time and whistled to himself. “Whelp, I’d better get back to work on my cruiser. Just need to pick up a few-”

Rek caught Zim by the collar as he started toward the exit. “Not so fast.”

Zim scrambled out of Rek’s hold and faced her. “I need to finish rewiring the navigational system before we run out of daylight. I’ve already wasted enough of the day as it is, and I didn’t even get to see Tenn’s report.”

“He’s going to notice, Zim.”

Zim gritted his teeth, determined not to betray his emotions. He stared Rek down, daring her to continue.

“Wait… Who’s going to notice what?” Skoodge asked as he set aside his tablet and climbed down from his chair.

“Care to explain to Skoodge?” Rek prompted.

“It’s none of Skoodge’s business. It’s not even _your_ business,” Zim said.

“So long as we’re shipmates, it most certainly _is_ our business,” Rek said, crossing her arms.

Zim puffed himself up to match Rek’s firm stance. “We’re not shipmates. We’re just on the same ship. Temporarily.”

Skoodge stepped next to Rek, worry wrinkling his brow. “Zim, what’s going on?”

Zim avoided Skoodge’s eyes. “Zim told the truth. I don’t know what else you want.”

“You left out some pretty significant details,” Rek countered. “Maybe you think you’re protecting Dib, but you won’t be able to hide it forever. It’s going to get worse. It’s going to get worse _quickly._ ”

“Which is why we’ll fix it as quickly as possible,” Zim said. “You said I have a year. That’s plenty of time.”

Skoodge’s antennae shot up in alarm. “A year? Until what?”

“Until his PAK fails completely,” Rek said.

Silence settled over the trio.

Rek went on, her gravelly voice marginally softer than before. “The strain Zim’s PAK has been under recently has accelerated the spread of its underlying corruption. His healing will continue to slow. His PAK tools will become harder to access and control. Eventually, his organic and digital memories will deteriorate and disconnect. After that…”

“I’ll fix it before any of that happens,” Zim stated.

“Fine.” Rek’s tone had sharpened once more. “At least the captain knows now. Tell your human as much or as little as you want, I guess. It’s not my problem.”

“Captain…?” Zim repeated.

Skoodge adjusted his gloves and stood a little taller. “It’s, uh, my ship, after all.”

Wheels turned in Zim’s mind. “You think I’m a liability, don’t you?”

Skoodge shifted. “No, it’s not like that…”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I think,” Rek said. “Like I said before: so long as we’re shipmates, temporary as that situation may be, we all need to be aware of your status. What if our location is discovered by pirates or enemies of Irk and we’re attacked? We’ll have to account for the possibility that your PAK lasers will fail. What if you forget who you are in the heat of battle and turn on your allies?”

“I would never forget who I am. I am ZIM!”

“You say that now, but you have no control over your future,” Rek said, jabbing a claw into Zim’s chest, which Zim immediately swatted away. “I’m happy to help with your PAK repairs if it comes to that, but I’m not going to sugarcoat your situation. You are a _hazard_ , Zim. That’s just the way it is.”

Zim’s body quaked with rage. He wanted to launch himself at Rek, show her just how dangerous he truly was. But if he did that, he could jeopardize Dib’s health. Rek was still monitoring him and helping him recover… That would be much harder to do if Zim ripped out her ocular implants and crushed them into powder.

“Are we done?” Zim snarled. “I have a ship to finish.”

Zim took Rek’s silence as an affirmative. He marched out of the bridge, ignoring Skoodge’s call for him to wait.

They didn’t understand. Zim wasn’t hiding anything from Dib. He was simply sparing the human from a few minor details that would only serve to stress him even further. Dib needed rest. He needed a damn _break_ from all of this. Humans were such fragile things, from their squishy bodies to their chaotic, inefficient brains.

Dib deserved a peaceful sunset on an alien world that looked too much like Earth, and by Irk, Zim was going to give him that.

*****

How ironic it would be if they’d survived their grueling Battle Zoo adventure only to die in a fiery crash on a safe haven planet. Dib reconsidered his understanding of irony. Perhaps it would just be sad and anticlimactic, but not necessarily ironic.

Dib tried not to think about the possibility of failure as Zim’s patchwork ship lurched into the sky. The two of them shared one wide, cushioned bench in front of the yoke, which meant every jolt of the ship slid its passengers into each other. Dib didn’t mind the warmth of Zim against his side, but his body still ached, and he could only pray this ride would be short.

“Is that clunking noise a, um, _good_ noise?” Dib asked as he white-knuckled the dashboard.

“It’s fine. It’s just loud!” Zim shouted. “It will be quieter outside of the atmosphere.”

“But we’re staying planet-side today, right?”

Zim nodded. “We won’t go very far. This is just a test run.”

Dib whimpered a little and started thinking about the least messy place he could puke as Zim angled the ship to the side in a tight turn.

Zim leveled the vessel and grinned apologetically. “Oh, sorry… It’s quite close. I promise.”

Dib didn’t ask what he meant and focused instead on the view through the windshield. They were only a few hundred feet from the ground. The details of the flowering trees and ivy-locked architecture were still visible from this height, and Dib distracted himself by comparing the foliage to Earthen plants. What were the chances that such similar forms of life would evolve separately in such disparate corners of the universe?

Zim brought the ship a bit higher, its trajectory parallel to the incline of a low mountain range. What minerals composed those juts of stone? What life once dwelled between the gaps in the rocks, and would that life ever return?

The ship slowed into a hover before lowering itself onto a plateau of grass near the spine of the range. Beneath the ship, wildflowers bent away from the force of the thrusters and bright blue and pink petals fluttered off into the air. Zim expertly settled the craft onto the soil and killed the engines.

“I really hope those will be able to start up again,” Dib joked.

“You’re so ungrateful,” Zim sneered, but he crinkled his face in a way that told Dib he wasn’t actually offended.

Zim popped the windshield up and then reached for Dib’s arms. Dib tried to feel dignified as Zim bridal-carried him out of the ship on his PAK legs. Once they were a few yards away, Zim placed Dib on the ground and sat next to him.

Ahead of them, more mountains, painted blue by the approaching twilight, crested like the waves of a frozen sea. A few clouds had rolled in throughout the evening, and they now glowed bright tangerine against the purple sky, reflecting the sun’s light as it dipped toward the horizon. A cool evening breeze swept the scent of unknown flowers across Dib’s face, and he closed his eyes to drink in the clean, sweet air.

“I haven’t seen this much color in so long,” Dib said as his eyes opened again. “Astronomers call the average color of the universe ‘Cosmic Latte,’ which is really just glorified beige. So, I guess we’re pretty lucky to find a view like this.”

Zim hummed in agreement and picked a blade of grass to play with, which gave Dib an idea.

“Check this out,” Dib said as he plucked a blade for himself. He cut a slit in it with his thumbnail, noting how similar the bright smell of it was to a freshly mown lawn back home. He lined the grass between his thumbs and blew, producing a high, buzzing tone.

Zim’s antennae swiveled to attention and shivered. “What was that?” he asked, round-eyed, as Dib stopped.

“A grass whistle,” Dib said, then blew again.

Once more, Zim’s antennae trembled at the sound, and Dib wondered if the noise bothered him. He pulled the whistle away from his lips, but Zim reached for his braced wrist.

“Do that again,” Zim requested.

Dib did, and Zim’s feelers vibrated, the feathered tips lifting almost straight up. Zim’s face twitched a little, and then he started to giggle and squirm.

“Does it tickle?” Dib asked, trying not to laugh in case Zim was embarrassed.

“I don’t know… It’s like… itchy? But kind of nice?” Zim said as he preened the disheveled ends of his antennae. “Zim wants to do it. Show me how.”

Dib walked him through the process of picking and slicing the grass, but lining the blade between Zim’s thumbs was a bit more difficult, as Irkens didn’t have the same gaps between their joints as humans did. Still, with a little adaptation, Dib managed to align Zim’s digits in a serviceable way.

“Now you just blow between your thumbs,” Dib instructed.

Zim took a huge gulp of air and blew so hard that the grass was blasted away. Dib laughed and prepared another blade for Zim.

“Gentler this time,” he said as he finished positioning Zim’s fingers.

Zim tried again, but only managed to produce a sickly hiss of air. He grumbled, adjusted his thumbs, and made another attempt. Still nothing. After several rounds of failing and twisting away from Dib every time he tried to help, Zim chucked the spittle-covered blade of grass aside.

“Mine’s broken,” he huffed.

“Nah, it just takes practice. And maybe human thumbs,” Dib said.

“Whatever. Pay attention. You’re missing your sunset.”

Dib chuckled and leaned back on his hands. Rek was definitely going to give them both an earful for running off like this when they got back. Oh well. She didn’t know what she was missing.

The orange clouds faded to magenta as the sky darkened and the sun sank into the horizon. The first stars blinked into existence overhead, their patterns unlike any of Earth’s constellations. Perhaps the people who once lived here ascribed their own legends to the stars. Maybe they’d escaped into the void and took their tales with them. Dib had studied folklore long enough to appreciate the tenacity of stories.

As the last rays of light dimmed in the distance, Zim spoke. “There will be a long-range communication hub on the next planet we visit. You’ll be able to call Earth from there.”

“That would be nice,” Dib said.

“And there’s a place we can go just to relax a little. Once you’re better,” Zim added.

“What about the Voot? And your PAK?”

“It’s on the way to a trade center that might have components for both.”

Dib nodded, then gingerly reclined himself until he was flat on his back. The deeper the navy of the sky, the more stars emerged from the darkness. They glittered in a quantity far greater than Dib had ever seen on his smog-choked home world. His mind automatically searched for landmarks in a sky he knew was not his own.

A hush of shifting grass, and then Zim’s shoulder was against his. Dib turned his head a little to see Zim’s face. The Irken’s large, wet eyes mirrored the dome of stars above them. Zim had to have seen dozens, maybe hundreds of different night skies… Dib wondered what he thought of this one.

He wanted to ask about what happened in the bridge after he left. Zim had more to say, Dib was sure of it, but he didn’t know if now was “later” enough for a discussion. They had so much to plan and prepare for, but before they could do that, Dib needed to have the full story.

Zim’s hand slid over the back of Dib’s, his claws gently lacing between Dib’s fingers. 

Tomorrow. They could talk tomorrow.

Tonight belonged to the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "...Make my messes matter,  
> Make this chaos count.  
> Let every little fracture in me  
> Shatter out loud."  
> \- Jupiter, Sleeping At Last
> 
> And so Phase Two concludes! 
> 
> I don’t mean to be a sappy mess in my own notes, and yet… I just want to share a couple things. In about a week (as I'm writing this in April 2020), I’m going to reach the one year anniversary of a pretty traumatic event in my life. I was hoping I’d be able to pass that day in the company of my close friends and partners, but with lockdown orders, I can’t justify that. So I’ll be alone in my house, which will be especially painful on this day. 
> 
> But I also know I won’t REALLY be alone. It’s taken me a year to open my heart back up and to learn to trust people again. I know I can still call my partners, and even though they can’t come cuddle with me through the scariness, I can at least chat with them, hear their voices. And I can trust them when they say they love me. 
> 
> I’ve been using IZ fiction to explore my own feelings of brokenness, abandonment, and trust. With that in mind, my greatest hope is that if you’re feeling lonely or broken or scared right now, then you can come rest for a while in my stories. I hope you have people in your life who love you as you are, because you deserve those people, and you deserve that love. If you don’t think you have people like that, I encourage you to think harder. It’s so easy to close your curtains and decide you’re alone when in reality, the people who love you are waiting outside the window, ready to help if you’d let them. If nothing else, I’d like to help, if I can. If you just need an ear to hear your story, I’m happy to provide that.
> 
> See? Sappy as heck… But I feel better for having talked about these things.
> 
> Thank you. Up next? A fluffy continuation of this story. I hope you’ll stick around!


End file.
